All the King's Horses
by AtlasNerd
Summary: When a witch that's thought to have been dead for the last decade is found in a muggle mental institution, the wizarding world is sent reeling. As the Department of Ministry tries to suppress the inevitable media storm heading their way, the Order of the Phoenix tries to uncover what really happened to one of their own so many years ago... Sirius/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue: Bright Eyes**

**June 20, 1995**

The clock chimed twelve times.

The woman stared blankly at the clock, and, shuddering at the noise, wrapped her arms closer around her. Her vision swayed as she rocked, but the movement provided relief. She squeezed her eyes shut. There was a trick she had once used, but long forgotten, when panic swelled within her. Something about counting.

But now she could only count the chimes.

"Now, now, love, enough of that. No need to go working yourself in a tizzy. You'll just get Doc Ryan to up your dose, that way." Her eyes were still squeezed shut, but she recognized the woman talking to her, for some reason. She was familiar yet a stranger all at once.

"I thought we weren't supposed to use nicknames, that it could be-uh-condescending?" Another voice murmured, hesitant and uncertain.

"What they tell you in school and what actually works are two different things. Take this dear little monkey, here. If you keep talking to her, she keeps listening, and you'll barely hear a peep out of her. But let her keep thinking to herself, she'll be in solitary quicker than any of them, I'm afraid."

Solitude.

She liked solitude.

Yet she hated it.

The walls were soft and inviting, but the floor was bare and soaked in blood. The silence was calming, but then interrupted, filled with screams and bright lights.

She shook her head vehemently, putting her hands over her ears in an effort to tune the rising voices out.

"What are you doing there, love? That naughty clock getting the best of you? Here, put your hands down and let's get your supper, hmm?"

The voices still murmured, but faded as the woman in white spoke to her. She swallowed hard, nodding. She opened her eyes, seeing some semblance of food before her.

"Aye, there's a good girl."

"What's her name?" The hesitant voice spoke again, and she was finally able to put a face to the sound. It was a young man, barely out of school. His voice was too soft, but in appearance he resembled another young boy she once knew.

_Abracadabra! _

_Don't say that too loudly, Dash, people will think…_

_I'm not going to kill him, just make him disappear…_

_Just make him disappear…._

_Just make him disappear…_

The pudding suddenly looked unappatizing. She squeezed her eyes shut once more.

The first nurse took a deep breath.

"We call you Jane, don't we love? Janie has bit of a spotty memory, you see, found on the streets and such. Never have been able to ID her properly. And such a shame, too, she's such a sweetie, I bet you have people somewhere who miss you very much, don't you?"

_Dash, what are you-_

_Dash, look out-_

_Dash-_

_I'm not going to kill him, just make him disappear…_

"And I bet they would love a bite of that pudding, wouldn't they?" When Jane didn't respond, the nurse let out a small sigh.

"Well, it was worth a try, wasn't it, love? You better eat something soon, you didn't like it very much when we put you on the tube."

"The tube?" The not-Dash inquired.

"If patients refuse to eat, you see. Little psychosis hunger strikes, I call them. Jane here goes off and on with it, depending if she's had a good day or not.

"And...is today a good day?"

"Well, the lights aren't flickering, so there's that." The nurse chuckled, moving about in the room. After a moment of silence, the nurse started again. "Oh, it's just a joke amongst the long-term nurses here. This building is so old, the electrical gets faulty now and again, but it always seems to be when Jane here is having a bad day. We call it her _curse." _The last word was said in an amused whisper, but it still fell on Jane's ears.

_Nasty business, family curses are. Usually the hardest to break…_

_He was a peculiar looking wererabbit, with a sharp grin with even sharper teeth…._

_A curse on ye and yer kind…_

_Gran, I'm so sorry…_

_The locket…_

_Promise me, Weiss..._

She put her hands over her ears once more, trying to block out the voices swirling around within her.

"_He'll kill them. I tried to warn them, I tried, but I couldn't-I don't remember-"_ she began to wail.

"Oh, shush love, no need turning into a banshee on us. There's a good girl…"

But the words had no affect on her.

"_The Order, the curse, the mark, it's-it wasn't him. It wasn't him-"_

Her eyes opened to an unamused, yet gentle nurse trying to calm her. The new orderly stood stone-still, an unreadable expression flickering across his face. Tentatively, as he always seemed to be, he spoke.

"Who'll kill them, Jane?" He asked. The older nurse seemed irritated that her junior was only serving to rile her patient up, but the words had the opposite effect, Jane's wailing drowning down into rocking once more.

"_You-Know-Who." _She whispered.

She no longer heard the nurses after that. Their lips moved, but she merely rocked, lost in things she couldn't quite remember. She didn't notice the shocked look on the orderly's face. She didn't pick up on the flickers of recognition, confusion, or horror. He was just another shadow among shadows, now.

And she had grown used to ignoring shadows.

* * *

**Chapter One: St. Anthony's Fire**

**July 18, 1995**

The clock struck once.

They wanted her to eat again, but the food felt like ashes in her mouth. Candles suddenly appeared, floating about her, and she found them far more interesting than the nurse's attempts at playing 'aeroplane'.

"Aww, I thought you liked your milkshake, love? Your stomach can't handle the tough stuff until you eat a bit more. You ought to feel proud, I wish someone told me that _I_ should eat milkshakes for my health."

"Yeah-I-I love milkcakes." Another voice sounded. Her roommate. An older woman who talked slowly, but never said anything unkind, outside of her tantrums for more food.

"We know _you _do Katie, you're like me, you could do to lose a few pounds off your tummy." The older woman giggled girlishly in response, patting her tummy in queue.

"But I like my tummy. It makes me-it looks like I'm going to have a _baby." _The woman squealed, kicking her feet in the air excitedly.

Suddenly, the candles disappeared from Jane's vision, their smoke lingering in her nose. She curled into herself, putting her hands over her ears. She didn't want to hear about Katie's baby again. She didn't want to hear about how God had told Katie to light her house on fire, or how she was possessed by a demon, or how the men in badges had taken the baby away from her, or-or-or-

Jane's brain felt like it was hiccupping over itself. Repeating the terrible story over and over and over and over but not letting her remember what the nurse's name was or what day it was or-

"Oh, shush, love. It's not all that bad, is it? It's even got banana in it, you usually love that."

"I like chocolate!"

"Trust me, Katie, we know you-"

Suddenly, a loud clash resounded down the hallway, loud enough for Jane to hear it through her hands. She froze, her breath hitching. The effect was not limited to her. It didn't take much to set the hyenas off, she could hear the wailing and banging of other patients that followed.

"What was that noise?" Katie asked, her mouth agape.

"Oi! Sorry, so sorry-I'm bit of a klutz-"

"She really is a klutz-"

"So sorry-"

"Just a bit of a klutz. Um-which room was it, again?"

"Right next door, Miss Blackman."

"Ah! Right. Thank you."

Jane blinked. Three figures crowded the doorway. Not-Dash and two strangers, both of whom stood as awkwardly as the patients, as if they weren't sure how to walk in what they were wearing. Clearly evidenced by the stranger with a scuffed knee.

"Ellie! I thought your shift had ended?" Not-Dash asked nervously, fiddling with his fingers. Jane pondered for a moment whether the nurses had spent too much time around their patients, picking up quirks and such. She began fiddling with her own hands. Something was missing. A stick or something. She needed something, just something to keep her fingers busy.

"Not quite, I'm afraid. Bonnie called in ill, so 'ere I am. And who might you be?"

"Hey, Miss Ellie-" Katie began, tugging at the older nurse's pants. The nurse ignored her, turning her attention instead to the new arrivals.

"Detectives Wesley Anderson and Dora Blackman, madam." The balding ginger man spoke, flashing a badge. Jane cocked her head. The badge had an aura about it, but while it was fuzzy, it was just blank paper. The nurse didn't seem to notice. Neither did Katie, whose eyes were transfixed on Jane's untouched milkshake.

"Miss Ellie-can I have her milkcake?" Once again, she went ignored.

"Detectives? Is something wrong?" The nurse asked. One of the detectives looked like there was very much something wrong, continuing to glance back over at Jane, but instead cleared his throat and offered a shaky smile.

"Quite the contrary, madam. Just investigating an old missing persons case, we thought one of your patients might be the person we were looking for. A Miss Joan Public?"

"Jane Public, actually." The nurse was now looking at her. They all were. Jane continued wringing her hands, deciding to focus instead on the candles that had faded back into appearance.

"Miss Ellie-"

"Do you mind if they talk to her, Ellie? I'll sit in, in case she gets upset."

"Miss Ellieieieie-"

"I don't see the harm in it. I-"

"Miss Elllllllllliiiiiieeeee-"

"Oh, alright! I'll go get Miss Katie here something _healthy_ to snack on. Just don't leave them in the room alone with her, alright? No offense to you two, of course, just hospital policy. And see if you can't get her to eat some of her nutrition shake, can you?"

"Of course. We wouldn't want to put you on the tube, now, would we miss Jane?" Not-Dash smiled hesitantly, trying to mimic his superior.

Jane responded in turn by closing her hands over her ears once more, watching the candles float about once more. Some wax dripped onto the older nurse as she left, causing Jane to refrain a wince.

"Dear Merlin." The ginger man muttered, peering closer. She shied away in turn.

"What? You can tell she's a witch just by looking at her?" Not-Dash whispered quickly, befuddled.

"Yes, because I think... I think I know her. Cathy? Cathy Weiss?"

Jane stilled, the candles floating faster around her. She suddenly felt dizzy, as if she were in an inferno of a merry-go-round, the candle flames growing in size. She didn't respond, instead feeling her brain begin to hiccup once more.

_Bloody hell, Cat!_

_It was never real. It was just for show the entire time, is that it?_

_Yes, that's exactly it. That's what we agreed to._

_But is it still true?_

_Cathy-_

"_It's not real. It's not real."_ She murmured softly, closing her eyes tightly, attempting to make the candles, the ginger-haired man, the clock, and everything in the room to go away. But when she opened her eyes, they were still there, their eyes reflecting the candle light.

"You know her, Arthur?"

"Tonks, she was a member of the Order."

"You're havin' a go at me."

"I'm not. It was before the Potters were murdered. She was a friend of Lily's, in fact. When we couldn't find her, everyone thought-I mean, the McKinnons had all just been killed-Merlin, this is…." The ginger haired man murmured, out of breath and blinking profusely.

"Cathy," He began slowly, drawing closer, "do you remember me? I'm Molly Prewitt's husband, Arthur Weasley."

Molly.

Mollie.

Mooollliee.

The name stood at the tip of her tongue, frustrating her. She bit her lip, shaking her head aggressively.

"_Go away go away go away go away-"_

She didn't realize she was speaking until Not-Dash came forward, gently laying her hands down from her ears.

"You mentioned a few days ago that you tried to warn somebody. That it wasn't someone's fault. And The Order? Do you remember any of that, Jane?"

No. She didn't even remember Not-Dash's name. Or the older nurse that had just walked out. She barely remembered Katie's, and wouldn't if the woman didn't sing her own name so much. She certainly didn't remember this weasel man, or-wait. There was something.

"_The rat." _She whispered. "_It was the rat."_ She attempted desperately to bring her hands to her ears once more, but to no avail. Not-Dash was holding her arms down, he was holding all of her down, he was angry, yelling, and he had the dark mark, and-

She jumped back with a wail, flailing back away from the young orderly. He wasn't as inexperienced now, instead attempting to hold her steady. But a snake slithered on his arm, hissing.

"The rat?" The weasel-man repeated, stunned. He looked back at the other stranger, an odd look passing between the two of them.

"It's one of the things she goes on about." Not-Dash explained, struggling to keep her from falling out of the bed. "Rats, cats, and clocks seem to be her favorite subjects. I only heard her talk about You-Know-Who once. But I haven't been here that long, you see-"

"_Hickory dickory dock, the rat ran up the clock-"_

"See what I mean?"

"_The clock struck twelve, the cat fell down, hickory dickory dock…"_

"She'll be humming that for ages, now. Shush, it's all right. We don't want you in solitary, now, do we? There's a good girl." He said hesitantly, but not all that reassuringly. He wasn't very good at this. He patted her back lightly, as if afraid to touch her.

And he should be afraid.

_Gran. Gran, please wake up._

_Ferula!_

_I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry-_

_Gran, please-_

She flinched away from him. She wasn't doing much for his self-confidence, but she didn't care. She didn't care. He wasn't Dash, he wasn't even Not-Dash, he was just another orderly that was going to fade away with all the others in a few weeks….

"So...what now?" Not-Dash asked, looking at the two strangers.

"I...we need to transfer her to St. Mungos." Weasel-man murmured, a sorrowful look on a typically jolly face.

"They'll leak word to the Daily Prophet the day she's admitted." Dory muttered.

"She needs a mind healer. She's not much better off than the Longbottoms."

"Dumbledore has resources, I'm sure. And you know Sirius would be more than happy to take her in, if she was friends with the Potters."

"They have a...complicated history, if I recall. Besides, how easily can you erase the paper trail back to you and Shacklebolt? To me? Once word gets out that's she's alive, the Ministry will have our heads if they think we've hidden something in an official case."

"I….damn it all, you're right, as usual. We don't have admit her as Cathy Weiss though, not yet. We'll just say we identified her as a witch-bloody hell, that'll still set the purebloods off, won't it?"

"I don't think there's a way to get around that, at this point."

"But it's not the muggles' fault." Not-Dash replied desperately. "In fact, I'm a squib, it was a bloody squib that found her! The muggles did what any person would do, they put a mad woman in a hospital. They couldn't have known."

"You know the pureblood supporters won't take it that way." the Dorie woman muttered, looking back at Jane. "They'll see a pureblooded witch who's wasted away, kidnapped by muggles for over a decade against her will. Hell, they may even blame muggle potions for her madness."

Against her will.

Against her will.

Against her will.

Had she been forced to come here? She barely remembered not being here, in this bed, with this ticking clock and telly cartoons. She vaguely remembered hunger. She remembered dark alleys and streets and bad men and a yelling and-

The candles flickered around her, causing the strangers looked alarmed. She didn't know why, the nurses never seemed to see the candles. She could hear the hyenas begin to howl, nurses cursing under their breaths in the hallway as they attempted to calm their patients.

"See?" Not-Dash breathed. "Accidental magic. Happens when she gets worked up, sometimes."

"And the muggles think it's a problem with their electrick-city?" Arthur asked, his face lighting up.

"Yeah. Every electrician they've hired has been baffled."

"Eleck-trish-uns? So muggles have specialists for-"

"She's never hurt anyone, has she?" Dory interrupted, rolling her eyes at her companion. "With uncontrolled magic?"

"Not that I know of. But, like I said-"

"You haven't been here very long. Yeah, we got that."

"Look, you two wouldn't even be here if I hadn't sent that letter. _Letters_, actually, nobody responded to the first one. Do you realize how hard it is to get ahold of a owls in the muggle world? They would put me in _here_ if they realized what I was doing."

"I-I understand that. Look, I'm sorry, Trimble, it's just that...what are we going to do, Arthur?" She asked, her eyebrows furrowed worriedly.

"We tell the Order, that's what. We'll give Dumbledore time to prepare, and come back here in a few days to arrange the transfer. Obliviate who we need to…"

Jane's mind came to a screeching halt.

_Obliviate. _

_Obliviate._

_Obliviate._

_Obliviate._

Her head was screaming and she was screaming and everything hurt and she was lying in blood and he was grabbing her and the snake was hissing and the candles were roaring and-

"Bloody hell, what did you say now-"

_Obliviate._

"If you don't want them to put her in solitary, you better do something quick-"

_Obliviate._

"Arthur, she's-"

_Obliviate._

"Stupefy!"

Weasel-man's voice rung in her ears. And then-it all came to a screeching stop. She fought against drowsiness, against the need to give in to sleep. She could hear Not-Dash muttering to himself, and the weasel man speaking once more.

"It was...the word obliviate, that was what set her off, wasn't it? Maybe….maybe it wasn't like it was with the Longbottoms, then. Maybe this was a spell gone wrong." He murmured softly. He was holding her hand. Usually, such a thing would bother her, but she could barely feel a thing. She could barely stay awake. But she heard the Dorie woman's reply.

"The question is, what did they want her to forget?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Who Knows Where the Time Goes**

**July 24, 1995**

The clock struck two when the strangers returned. Days had passed, and Jane would have thought that it had all been a dream if it weren't for Katie's insistent nagging.

"Stupidfy! Stupidfy! Why-why-why can't I fall asleep like you, Janie?"

Janie didn't attempt to respond. It was night, she was cold, and Katie was going to get them in trouble. Then she would have to take more meds and the nurses would be mad for making a ruckus and waking everyone up and-

"Hey Janie?"

"Jaaannnieee?"

She struggled to remember the questions the aurors had asked her. If she could remember the questions, maybe she could remember the answers. But they kept eluding her.

Aurors. What made her think of that word?

They weren't even detectives. Paper badges, origami hearts. It wasn't real. Maybe it had never been real. Maybe Katie wasn't real, just another demon, a ghost even.

"Stupidfy, stupidfy, stupidfy-"

Maybe a pixie. They were shrill and annoying.

"_Just shut up just shut up just shut up!"_

Had she actually said that? Sometimes she thought things so loudly that others could hear it, too. She listened, heavy footsteps lumbering down the hallway. Looks like she had. She pulled a blanket over her head, feigning sleep. It was a man, she gathered, a large man. Jane took a deep breath. She knew which nurse it was. He wasn't young and hesitant like Not-Dash, he was large and gruff. He was the one they called when the patient across the hall was smearing dung on the wall.

She had heard the fighting that resulted after that. And he always won.

She shivered, wrapping the blankets desperately tighter around her. Maybe if she tucked herself in tight enough, he wouldn't be able to get under the covers with her.

"You girls quiet down, now." He spoke, confirming her suspicions. She held her breath, but Katie's softer, nonsensical singing seemed to placate him, even as it annoyed her. He walked off. He had only made it a few feet before his footsteps come to a stop.

"Trimble? What are you doing this time of the night? You're not on this shift. And who are these blokes?"

"Err….sorry about this, Tom."

"Sorry? What are you-"

"Obliviate!"

Jane stilled in horror once more.

_Obliviate. _

_Obliviate._

_Obliviate._

_Obliviate._

"Easy, Cathy, easy. We've come to take you home."

Weasel-man was suddenly in front of her. While his eyes were kind and the hand on her shoulder gentle, she still jolted back. When had the strangers come into her room? What were they doing? Her covers! She had come out of the covers, that's why this was happening, it was all her fault, that's why-

"Stupid people! Stupidfy!" Katie squealed in delight.

"Oh, great, she remembers us. Yes, yes, we're the stupidfy people." The other strange woman remarked. Had her hair always been bubblegum pink?

"Don't obliviate her, she's harmless." Not-Dash appeared. She had never seen him at night, he looked older, now. Less disturbingly like Dash. "The nurses-er, healers, won't understand what she's saying. And she doesn't need anything else messing with her mind."

"Stupidfy! Stuuuupiiiiddfyfyy!"

Jane's eyes narrowed.

A pop sounded in the air, and the adults looked on in shock. She didn't care. She got what she wanted. Katie had shut up.

"Merlin. Tonks, can you...uh...can you transfigure her back to normal?" The weasel-man murmured, his eyes wide. A small pixie with a taped mouth had appeared where Katie had once sat.

Dorie didn't respond immediately, instead keeling over, laughing. Not-Dash wasn't amused, in fact, even panicked.

"This isn't funny, if the muggles find her, they'll-"

"Hold your horses, Trimble. Just getting a good laugh in, is all." The bubblegum woman giggled, rising back to a standing position. She muttered a few incantations, and with a pop, Katie appeared back once more. Yet, instead of a taped mouth, her lips appeared to blur together, preventing any attempt at talking.

"Miss Tonks, what are you doing?!"

"Relax, Trimble. It'll wear off in a few hours. It'll help her sleep. And everyone else around here, for that matter."

"You could've just stupefied her." Not-Dash grumbled. Katie attempted to repeat the word, but failed comically. Outside of her confusion, she didn't seem too besotted by her state, instead thinking it some sort of game.

"See? She doesn't mind."

And somehow, she didn't. As annoying as Katie could be, one thing was certain. She had a good heart.

"Cathy, it's me again. Do you remember me?" The balding man spoke once, speaking carefully as if she were a child. She certainly felt like one.

"_Weasel-man." _She spoke hesitantly. She heard the bubblegum woman giggle once more. Weasel man offered a kind smile.

"Yes, quite good. I'm Mr. _Weasley_, and I'm going to take you to another hospital, ok? Keith is going to come with us, and so will Nymphadora. Then you'll meet your new healers, and they'll help you get better. Do you understand?"

She bit her lip.

"_I'm leaving St. Anthony's."_

Weasel-man blinked for a moment, looking towards Not-Dash, who nodded.

"Ah, so that's what this place is called. Yes, my dear, you are. You're going back home, back to the wizarding world."

Home.

She had forgotten what home felt like.

St. Anthony's was the only home she remembered.

She bit her lip once more, rocking as she closed her eyes. She could hear dung-smearer making a racket across the hallway, hear the distant sounds of the telly at the nurse station's. She could hear Katie's incessant humming, even if warped by the bubblegum woman's doings.

It was annoying, and frightening at times, but it was the only home she knew.

"_I don't want to be brave."_

"Why, don't you remember?" Weasel-man joked gently. "You were in Gryffindor. And if you survived half of what I think you survived, then you're one of the bravest women I know."

Marlene was brave, and she didn't survive.

Wait, who was Marlene?

Jane squeezed her eyes shut, banging her head against her hand, and cradling it as she did so. She peeked up at the Weasel-man, who was still waiting for an answer. She nodded slightly, and that response was good enough for him.

"There's a good lass. Now, we're going to apparate to St. Mungos. Do you remember what apparition is?"

_A man was screaming, holding his leg. _

_Or what was left of it._

_Her hands were shaking, but she steadied her wand hand._

_Wand?_

_Of course, her stick. Where was her stick?_

"_I don't want to be squished. Or wished. Or-fished-?" _She couldn't remember the word. Weasel-man winced, but nodded encouragingly.

"I forgot you were a healer. Yes, you can get _splinched_, but I'm not going to do that, am I? You're going to feel a strong pull in your navel, you may even feel a bit sick, after. But then we'll appear at St. Mungos, and you'll be right as rain. All your fingers, all your toes, everything right as it should be."

And all her legs, she wondered? Would they still be there, too? Regardless, she gave another nod.

"Alright, then. Tonks, you go first, let them know we're coming. We'll be right after."

"Righty-O". She smiled, giving a little twirl. Jane blinked. The woman's hair now shimmered blue. Dory gave a little wink.

"See you on the other side, Cat."

And with a pop, she disappeared. Katie clapped approvingly.

Weasel-man held her hand, and to Jane's surprise, she didn't mind the gesture. She looked back at Katie, who was still clapping her hands gleefully.

"_Wait." _She whispered, letting go of Weasel-man's hand.

She swallowed hard, and closed her eyes. Could she do it? It never happened when she wanted it to, not really. She fiddled with her hands, used to the sensation of something occupying them. She envisioned the candles around her once more, an old man with a long, white beard and twinkling eyes smiling at her across the room. Yes, she remembered now. If anything had felt like home before this place, it was there.

When she opened her eyes, Katie's mouth had unblurred just a smidge, her end-table lamp having turned into a large chocolate milkshake with a straw just small enough to fit in the crack of her mouth.

Katie clapped again

"Mrlkkcake! Mrlkcake!"

For the first time in a long time, Jane smiled. She took Weasel-man's hand, swaying unsteadily as she avoided his eyes. He didn't leave immediately, instead, giving her a strange, pleasant look. An approving look.

_Bye bye, Katie._ She thought.

And with a pop and a tug at her navel, she was gone.

* * *

Jane was confused. They didn't take her to the place with the floating candles, which was fine, she supposed. People were dressed strangely here, in a cloak-like uniform rather than the usual scrubs. The style was strange, yet familiar, as everything in the last few days had seemed to be.

But there weren't any clocks.

At first, she was relieved. The constant ticking had worn on her mind, yet now, she couldn't tell what time it was. Which was a problem, because she was never sure of what time it was supposed to be.

She didn't remember how she had gotten to the room she was in. She didn't remember how yet another nurse, a good-natured, fussy woman, had come to know her name. And she didn't know why every new person she met seemed so sad.

She had a room to herself now, which was rather nice, and the other patients seemed tranquil compared to what she was used to. No dung smearing, not attempts to gauge their own eyes out or hang themselves. The forgetful one with shiny teeth had walked into a wall a few times, but Jane couldn't honestly say that she hadn't done that, herself.

"Do you remember me?" The fussy woman walked as if on air, gliding from place to place. Underneath her cheerful perfectionism was-teariness? Jane wasn't sure. She had grown so used to ignoring others, she had long forgotten how to read their faces.

Why did everyone keep asking her that, lately? The nurse wasn't Weasel-man, wasn't bubblegum woman. She never remembered her roomates, after they had gone, but this woman didn't look like she would have been one.

Would Katie remember her, she wondered? Would Jane even remember Katie, in a few weeks time?

"I was afraid of that. Quite understandable really, with everything you must have gone through. I'm Miriam, Miriam Strout. We got our healing certifications together." The woman said cheerfully, as if it explained everything.

"_I'm sorry. I don't-I don't-" _

"That's completely understandable, dear. To be expected, really. Those poor muggles have your brain addled by all kinds of things, still, they'll need some time to work their way out of your system. We have some potions to slow the process down, to prevent withdrawal. Really, I don't know how they come up with some of these things, it's not much better than when they treated syphilis with mercury…"

Jane stared at the woman blankly.

"But you don't care about any of that, of course. Tell me, Cathy, do you know what mind healers are?"

Jane stared dumbly, once more. Hadn't Weasel-man called her that? Cathy? She couldn't remember, she couldn't-

Stout clucked her tongue as Jane began to rock, drawing Jane's attention back to the conversation.

"There's a good girl. Now, as I was saying, it seems that at St. Anthony's, they gave you medicine, and here it will be similar, except you'll need to take _potions_. But most of what you'll be taking is nutritional. It appears you have a bit of a problem eating, so some of these will help get your body in fighting spirits, and others are just to pep you up!"

Somehow, Jane doubted the potions would taste any better than the nasty little pills she was accustomed to.

"But where you need the most help, Cathy, and what we need to evaluate, is right-" The woman buzzed, twirling her finger and tapping Cathy's forehead like a buzzing bee. "Here. That's where mind-healing sessions come in."

"My magic will allow me to see into your mind. Whatever you see, I'll see it, too. We'll start slowly, softly, we don't want to break anything, of course, just to see where you're at. Would you like that?"

No. Jane wouldn't.

She didn't wanted her brain to start hiccupping. She wanted to remember things, but the hiccuping hurt, and she didn't want to hurt.

But nurse Sprout took her silence as a yes.

"Alright then. Let's close our eyes, shall we? Just take a deep breath. I want you to remember anything that makes you happy. Chocolate frogs, hugs, butterflies, a fond memory, anything that makes you smile."

Smile? But she never smiled.

Well, that wasn't true. She had smiled the day before, with Katie and Weasel-man. But why had she?

"_I don't-I don't remember-"_

"It's alright, Cathy, we're not trying to remember anything in particular. Just a happy thought. Clouds, sunlight, fresh air, birds. Anything at all."

Happy thought. What was she trying to do, fly?

Wait. Flying. Pixie dust. Pixies. Katie.

_She was back at St. Anthony's. Katie's mouth had unblurred just a smidge, her end-table lamp having turned into a large chocolate milkshake and a straw._

_Katie clapped again._

"_Mrlkkcake! Mrlkcake!"_

_It felt good to know that Katie was happy._

_A ginger haired man was looking down at her with an approving smile. She returned it. She liked making people proud, even people she didn't know._

_But the ginger haired man wasn't alone. Beside him, Nurse Stout had appeared, that same tight cheeriness across her face. What was she doing here? Had she worked at St. Anthony's before?_

"_See? Was that so hard? We're in your memory, my dear."_

_No. _

_The hospital suddenly began to shake, the milkshake clattering to the floor. Katie was screaming, and the floating candles came crashing down, starting to burn the floor. With a crash, the ceiling began to break through, rats gnawing their way through. A clock began to chime._

"_Shush, dear, it's alright dear, it's alright."_

_Get out get out get out get out_

"_Cathy! It's alright!"_

_Get out get out get out get out_

"Cathy!"

_Get out get out get out get out_

"Jane!"

She closed her eyes and opened them. The fire, the rats, and Katie had all vanished. She was no longer at St. Anthony's, but right back to the same strange hospital she had been in before.

"Like I said." Strout said pleasantly, but not unkindly. "We don't want to break anything. Let's let you get settled in a bit more before we try that again, hmm?"

Jane found herself unable to respond. The lights still flickered around her. She was aware of Strout's pleasant stare, but try as she might, was unable to suppress the panic rising within her. Or the bile.

"Oop!" Spout had a quick reaction time, conjuring a bowl for Jane to vomit into. She seemed unaffected by the lights, although Jane could hear the forgetful man muttering in the hallway.

"Easy does it, now. Just pushed you a bit too far already, hmm? There, there, it'll be alright…"

"Is everything alright, Miss Strout?" Jane closed her eyes as tightly as she could manage, but curiosity caused her to peek once more. She half expected to see Not-Dash, but instead, a young, buck-tooth lad peered in. He shared Not-Dash's timidness, but wasn't nearly as whiny.

"Oh, hello Neville! I'm surprised you got through, we had to lock the ward down last night. The guards weren't supposed to let anyone up here, but you're always welcome, my dear."

"I'm regular enough that they didn't mind, I suppose. Explains the odd look Mr. Bumbleton gave me when I went up. What's the ward locked down for? Did something happen?"

"Oh, nothing bad, my dear. Our new patient just needs a little time getting used to it here, we were just trying to limit visitors until she adjusted. She has a flare for wandless magic, it seems. But you're quite alright, dear. Cathy, meet Neville. Neville Longbottom."

Longbottom. Where did she recognize that name? She wasn't sure. It made her envision a clever man with big ears.

What a terrible name to have. Long. Bottom. She would almost laugh it it weren't so terrible.

"Nice to meet you, Cathy."

"_You, too." _She was suddenly aware of how few conversations she remembered ever having with someone who wasn't a nurse or a patient. She buried her head in her hands.

"_Sorry."_

"Oh, not at all, dear! Everyone gets a little sick from time to time. Nothing to be ashamed of. Why, I meant to tell Mr. Longbottom that his father had a bit of a cold this week. Nothing a potion or two couldn't help."

"He was sniffling a bit." Neville murmured thoughtfully, fidgeting with something in his pocket. He offered a kind smile.

"I'm sure they'll help you along. You'll look after them, too, yeah? They're right down the hall. Me mum's got short, wispy hair. They say I look most like her. Dad's the one with her."

Jane nodded, thinking of Katie. Maybe she wouldn't have a roommate, but that didn't mean she couldn't give other people milkshakes, too.

"_Big ears." _

"Yeah! That's right. I get them from him, unfortunately. I should have figured you had already met them."

Met who?

She fidgeted uncomfortably under Nurse Spout's surprised stare.

"Very good, Cathy...do you know what Neville's mum looks like, dear?"

She squinted. The stern man turned into an even more severe woman, with gray hair and a big hat.

"_She wears birds."_

"Oh! You're thinking of Gran's dreadful hat! Do you know her? She's Augusta. Her and mum have the same first letter, I suppose, Mum's name is Alice." Neville was suddenly very intrigued, and Spout's look grew more intense.

Jane shook her head vehemently, almost craving a corner in Solitary. But the two kept looking at her, so she kept trying to find something to say.

"_I... see images, sometimes. Candles. Big hats."_

"But you've had to have met her before, to know that. She's the only one I've ever seen who wears that horrid thi-" Neville broke off suddenly, catching Spout's sharp look. His mouth formed an O.

"So...you're like Mum and Dad, then, yeah? And Lockhart? Memory problems and such?"

A locked heart? Was that a name?

"Yes, her case is very similar. But we'll keep that bit of knowledge on this floor, hmm?"

"Oh. Of course, Mrs. Strout. Sorry, Mrs. Strout. I really didn't mean to bother."

"Not at all, Neville. If anything, we learned something new, didn't we, Cathy?" Jane really hated the looks Spout kept giving her. As if she knew something Jane didn't. Which she did, but she didn't have to make it so obvious.

At a lack of response, Neville waved an awkward goodbye. As he walked off, a crinkling sound sounded from his pocket as he continued to fiddle with something. Sounded like a wrapper, of sorts. Maybe everyone fiddled with things, not just patients, Jane mused.

"Now, I know you must be awfully tired-" Why did everyone keep speaking to Jane like she was eleven? "But I did want to let you know that you should have another visitor today. In the next fifteen minutes or so, in fact."

Visitor? How could she have a visitor? She had to know someone to have visitors.

"The first person is Mrs. Nymphadora Tonks, the shapeshifting auror you've met before, and the second is someone who claims to be an old friend of yours. He'll be able to identify you better than Arthur could. His name is Remus Lupin." Spout spoke carefully, as if expecting a dramatic flickering of lights.

But the names didn't even flicker a lightbulb in Jane's mind.

Shapeshifter? Ah. The pink haired lady that was also the blue haired lady. Dory. That registered.

She was growing tired of being gawked at. When she had left St. Anthony's, it felt like she was being rescued, moving on to a normal life. But everything here was more of the same. Just different nurses, different roommates, and different people peering at her.

Healer Spicket's mouth was moving, telling her more things she didn't care to know and asking more questions she didn't know the answers to.

Jane closed her eyes and covered her ears, no longer interested in what the know-it-all had to say. When she opened them once more, time must have passed, as the healer was gone once more. The patients walked by had turned into oily shadows, and all was at peace.

But something woke her from her daze. Two figures were at the door. But one wasn't short and balding, nor was he a mere shadow.

"Remus." She breathed, a sudden familiarity attached to the strange name. The figure in question seemed nearly to break in half at her voice, but a gentle, sad smile flitted across his lips. A vase of lillies shook in his hands.

"Hello, Cathy."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: Those were the Days**

**July 30th, 1995**

Jane needed a clock.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed by since Nurse Sprout had told her she had visitors and when they had arrived. She wasn't sure how long they had been there, or how long it had been since she had seen either of them. Or how long it had been since she had last seen this man.

"She recognizes you! That's good news, isn't it?" The Dory woman's hair was pink again, but this time kept in a bob. It swayed against her face as she looked between Jane and the man.

Jane blinked.

She did recognize him. But how?

Her confusion didn't go unnoticed, but it didn't seem to stop the weary smile on the man's face from growing larger. This older, weary man morphed into a gangly teen, with an easy smile and smaller bags under his eyes.

"_I know you." _She murmured, letting a small smile reach her own face. "_I know you."_

"Merlin, Cathy. We all thought you were dead."

The gangly boy stepped forward, and swallowing hard, enveloped her into his arms.

_He loves you, Cat. I know he does. _

_That's not what it sounded like to me._

_Sirius pushes girls away when he gets too close. I suppose there's a deeper meaning there with his relationship with his mother and all, I dunno, but it's what he does._

_We were at least friends, before. Now...I just feel used. I've lost him. I've lost you. Lily, James, Peter, everyone. We're all going our separate ways and we're all going to pretend like nothing ever happened._

_Look, I-I don't know what's going to happen. We might not see each other much after graduation, but we'll always be friends._

_...you promise?_

_Promise._

"_It wasn't you."_ She murmured, shaking her head into his shoulder as the hug grew tighter. She was shaking now, her ears ringing as if a thousand pixies were screaming all at once. "_It wasn't you, it wasn't you, it wasn't you….."_

"What wasn't me?" She could feel his arms still quizzically around her. He was acting like Nurse Spluncket now, she knew, treating her as if she were a child. But Jane didn't care. There was something she was supposed to tell somebody. Something that was important.

"_The rat, Remus. The rat."_ She could hear them along with the ringing, now. Chewing in the walls, chewing in the back of her brain. An old memory, plastered in walls of ash and lime. Remus looked unsurprised by this revelation, Dory giving him a knowing look as he separated from the hug.

Jane suddenly felt very bare. She wrapped her own arms around her, burying her head against her arms. Remus sat down on her bed, transforming from that gangly boy to a weary man once more.

"That's why we're here, Cathy. You were….you were gone for a very long time, and we're trying to make sense of what happened to you. Do you remember what happened? With the rat?"

"_I don't remember much of anything, anymore. I'm not sure I remember you, all the way." _But she tried, rocking as she did so. Oh, she tried.

"_I need...I need a clock. I don't know what time it is. Or what day it is. You look so old, Remus. We look so much older, now."_

"It's been almost fifteen years, Cathy. They said….they said your place was upturned, bloodied-the wards picked up traces of the killing curse. When nobody could find you….it wasn't the first time the death eaters had gotten to us where we lived."

Death eaters. She envisioned inferni-like creatures, eating shadows and ghouls wherever they went, hissing in the air.

"Do you remember what happened that night? Do you remember the rat's name?"

Of course she didn't. Rats don't have names.

Rats just are. They're cowardly, and dirty, and gnaw into everything no matter how much you try to get them out. That's what makes them rats.

She shook her head. "_Just St. Anthony's. Everything else comes and goes. Like candles and shadows." _She murmured, trying to explain. The pixies were giving her a headache, now.

"You remembered me."

She didn't know what to say to that, or how to explain it. She knew, somehow, that Remus existed before St. Anthony's. But St. Anthony's was all she remembered. That and…

"_I remember darkness. I remember a floor filled with blood and feeling cold. I would always think about it in solitary. The nurses don't like it when I make the candles burn, or when I try to tell the rats to go away, or when they don't see the men with cloaks and black smoke or the snakes on their arms-"_ She found herself talking faster, frantically gasping for air as the images flitted through her mind.

Remus swore softly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder as she rocked.

"It's alright, Cat. It's alright. They're gone. You're here, now. You're home."

Home?

Home was a place filled with laughter and love. Home was a place with floating candles and men with twinkling eyes. Hogwarts was home. St. Anthony's was home. But the streets? This new hospital? They could never be home. Wait...Hog-warts?

She bashed her head against her palm once more in frustration. She looked up and saw the those familiar sad eyes, his form slipping between the boy she once knew and the weary man he had become.

"_I want a clock." _She repeated suddenly. "_I don't want to forget you again."_

Remus shifted in surprise, but his hand didn't move. He swallowed hard, and while confused, nodded, seeming relieved that she had calmed down.

"I'll talk with Mrs. Strout, I'm sure that can be arranged."

"_It's important. There was something I was supposed to tell you, something important." _

"And you think a clock will help you remember?" Dory interjected. Jane was surprised at first. She had forgotten that the strange woman was there, but she was, and carrying the forgotten flowers, at that. Jane blinked, noticing the woman's excitement, at just how close she stood to Remus, and how their hands almost touched.

Their closeness reminded Jane of just how alone she really was. Her hand had held someone else's before. Someone who was important. Someone else she was supposed to tell something important.

"…_.no...but it'll help me not to forget."_

* * *

"What will happen to her? Will she need money to stay here for treatment?" Remus wasn't talking to Jane, now, but with Nurse Spricket. In fact, he wasn't even in the same room as her, having moved to the corridor. Jane blinked, trying to remember when he had left. He had just been in the room, he had just been hugging her, talking with her…but now her room was empty, flowers she didn't remember receiving sitting primly on her night stand.

"That depends. She's the Ministry's ward, officially, unless we can find another family member that's still living. Any friends that would like to step forward for her care would have to apply for guardianship, but until then, the Ministry will decide whether she's a danger to herself and others, and either pay for her residency here, or….or not."

"Or not? What happens if they don't?" Dory asked, sounding concerned.

"Then she would be released. But, be assured, I have every intention of submitting a request for her permanent residence here, unless she improves. She can't take care of herself, and it's a miracle that she hasn't made more muggles aware of her magic by now."

"And you're sure they'll approve your request?"

"I...nothing is sure, administrations changing and such, but-I will do everything in my power. There's no reason for them to deny it." She paused, somewhat hesitant. "With all respect, Remus, if you did wish to apply for guardianship, I doubt they would accept it given your...status."

"They would rather release a nutty woman to the streets than knowingly place her with a werewolf? Typical." Dory snorted. From her distant view, Jane could tell the woman was crossing her arms, defensive of her partner.

"Does she have any family left? The records didn't show anything…" The nurse proposed, seeming to already know the answer.

"I'm afraid not. Her brother died in the war, and her parents before that. I'm the closest thing to family she has left. Look...if she is released for some reason… could you be sure to call me?"

"Of course. But Remus...I'm afraid her case is about to become very political. You may want to ask Dumbledore to step in. There may be only so much I can do."

"I-I understand. Just keep me informed, yeah?"

"Of co-"

"I'm afraid this isn't Dumbledore's jurisdiction. Nurse Strout, is it?" A third voice broke into the conversation, followed by the quick pitter patter of heels clicking against the floor. Jane peered around the corner. A small statured woman with thin, wispy hair approached the group, a polite smile stitched to her face. While not unkind, there was a falseness to it that made Jane uncomfortable.

"It is, madam. However, I'm afraid the ward is closed to a limited number of visitors-"

"Yes, your man Bumbleton told me as such, but I'm afraid it's a ministry matter, now." The tiny woman offered a hand, her smile still unwavering. "Mafalda Hopkirk, Head Assistant to the Department of Improper Use of Magic. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Miriam Strout, plea-" Sprout stopped mid handshake. "I beg your pardon, did you say Improper Use of Magic?"

"Yes m'am. I'm filling in for Madam Umbridge. She's moved up to Senior Undersecretary, you see." The woman seemed to hold a great reverence for this title, Jane noted.

"Then what on earth are you lot doin' here?" Dory inquired, sizing the woman up. "This is an auror matter."

"I'm afraid not." The Hopper woman disagreed sweetly, straightening her robes. "It appears Mrs. Catherine Whistle-"

"Weiss." Remus corrected, his eyes narrowing.

"Pardon, Catherine _Weiss_, well, it appears that she's breached The International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. For over a decade, in fact." The woman said pointedly, the smile still unmoving.

"Accidental magic is common among mentally ill witches." Nurse Strout started slowly, as if explaining to a child. "That's why she was brought here. Any sort of conviction would never hold up in court."

"I understand." Mrs. Hopkirk stated kindly. "But as I overheard, Mrs. Weiss has still not obtained a court order for her permanent residence here. It's a matter of policy, you understand. Mrs. Weiss was perfectly sane and dating a known death eater prior to her disappearance. The minister would like for her to be brought before the court and professionally evaluated before her mental status is taken for granted."

"Professionally evaluated?! My dear, I have over twenty years of experience in mind healing, particularly in complex cases such as this. This woman doesn't even remember her own name, dragging her out in front of a courtroom is liable to get someone blown up."

"That's why I'm here, my dear. To assess such a risk. We wouldn't want another Sirius Black on our hands now, would we?"

Sirius..

Sirius…

Serious?

Jane began to shake, but wasn't sure why. She closed her hands over her ears, tired of the fruitless conversation. There was so much to focus on here, so much to learn, so many new people, and she couldn't keep track of it all.

How long had she even been here? A day? A week? A year? She didn't think it could be too terribly long ago, since the woman with clicking heels seemed to be talking about changes. But there were no clocks and no way to know.

She heard Remus's gravely voice rise in disagreement with the other woman. Jane closed her eyes tightly, beginning to hum. She began softly at first, but louder as she tried to drone the voices out.

She could feel the thrum of energy in the air as she sang. Candles flickered around her, oily shadows threatening to put them out.

She began counting backwards. Someone had said that it would help once. But help what? Who had said it? She didn't like it here. She didn't like remembering pieces. She would rather remember it all or forget it all. Yet she kept counting. Counting.

When she opened her eyes, the voices were far away, as significant as noise on the telly.

The energy stilled within her, content with whatever had happened.

There were no muggle devices to flicker. No reason for the oily shadows outside to break their pattern, to notice anything was amiss.

She let her eyes drift to the flowers on her end-table. The lilies had wilted, their shriveled petals falling by the bed.

Lilies never lasted for very long, she mused sadly, before curling up and falling into a fitful sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Heart of Glass**

**July 6th, 1995**

Silence.

She woke to silence.

She stilled, waiting, although for what she didn't know. There was no clock, no ticking, no time. She had an unbearable feeling that she would be waiting here forever. A pressure began to build within her chest, and she found it difficult to breathe. She pulled the sheets over her head, wrapping her arms around herself as tightly as she could.

A whine-could it have been a whine?-slipped past her ears. Something warm and furry curled against her, a hot tongue licking her face through the fabric. The pressure against her chest eased.

The whining became more frantic, but almost…happy? Like a dog that had reunited with a its master. Was that just in her head, too?

She let the blanket fall around her neck, her eyes opening to find a mangy, black dog in the covers beside her.

If it was a hallucination, then it was a welcome one, she decided, wrapping her arms around the mutt. "Good pup." She sniffled, burying her head into its fur. "Good dog."

The dog whined in response, its tail wagging furiously against the blankets. She found herself sobbing without really knowing the reason why. Every time she would try to rock, she would find his tongue against her face in concern. On one hand, the sensation was overwhelming, but on the other hand, somehow comforting.

The withered flowers were on the floor now, she realized suddenly. The vase had shattered, knocked over during the commotion.

"_I'm sorry." _She murmured, somehow feeling responsible. Shards of glass were stuck in the dog's fur. The dog didn't seem to mind, its fur so mangy that nothing had punctured the skin. She tried to brush the glass off, but the dog stopped her, muzzling her hand away.

She was bleeding from what she had managed to scrape off, she realized. She stared at the tiny droplets slipping down her hand, feeling the shadows pressing down on her again.

The dog made a tight circle, its tail brushing off the glass that had fallen onto her blankets. She blinked. Definitely a hallucination. No dog was that smart. Maybe it wasn't a dog…

"_Are you a grim?"_

She wasn't scared by the idea of it, she realized. An ill omen, even a death omen, wouldn't have bothered her. At least she would understand what it meant, even if she didn't understand anything else that was going on.

The dog whined in a tone that indicated that he didn't agree. Grims were supposed to be eerie, she decided, and this dog acted more like an overgrown puppy. No, he wasn't a grim.

"_Do they allow dogs here? At Mang...mango's? Mumbo's? Bumbo's?" _She blinked, suddenly uncertain if this place was indeed any of those things.

The dog's tongue strolled to the side of its face at the sound of it, as if it were proud of getting away with such a feat. On queue, a distant snore whistled down the hallway. It was the grumpy male healer, Bumbleton, she recalled. He was fond of on-duty naps. She giggled, rolling her eyes at the canine's antics. He must have snuck past more than just one sleeping healer to find his way here.

"_Rebel rebel." _She whispered teasingly, the tips of her mouth quivering. "_Maybe I could hide you under the bed, if Katie will keep her mouth shu-" _She stopped. Something was wrong with that statement. She paused, looking around. Katie wasn't here. This wasn't the hospital with the clock and a telly.

Good. Maybe she could actually get away with hiding him, then.

"_Where did you come from, I wonder?" _She murmured. The dog looked cocked its head back at her, as if asking her the same question.

"_I don't know, either. Everyone keeps asking that, but I don't know." _She ran a hand through her hair, using the other one to pat the pup on the head.

"_I just want it to stop. I want the pixies and the candles and the voices and the blood and the rats to stop. I want the clock back. I want to sleep and never wake up. I want Weasel-man and Katie and R….Re…."_ she stilled, a feeling of horror blooming in her stomach.

"_I….I should know his name...he was here….was it yesterday? Or last week? I-oh, what was his name. The gangly boy. The gangly man." _She banged her hand against her head. Maybe if she banged hard enough, it would come to her. Or at least go away for good, so she wouldn't be troubled by partial remembrances anymore. A bullet could do the trick, she thought bitterly.

The dog was clawing at her arms, gently placing its mouth around her wrist in an effort to stop her from harming herself. But she didn't stop. She didn't feel the pain from its claws or its fangs as she flailed. She didn't feel the pain from banging her head. If anything, she craved it. To feel something, something that made sense. She slowed, however, afraid of hitting her new friend by accident.

"_I just want them to be happy. But I don't even remember who they are. _She whispered mournfully. _I probably won't remember you tomorrow, either."_

The dog licked her face in response, an impossibly sad look on its face.

"_Will you come back? Even if I don't remember you?"_

If dogs could nod, this one seemed to, burying its muzzle into her neck and licking her face.

She fell asleep that way, with the dog curled up against her chest. The dog's breathing filled the silence, even if a little. His breath had a rhythm to it, a sort of metronome that was just enough white noise to ease her mind.

When she woke, the glass had vanished and the flowers were gone, as if they had never even existed. And perhaps they hadn't. Or perhaps the friendly grim had been real, after all.

* * *

Nurse Sprocket was tense. Jane didn't understand why, but she kept as quiet as she could, not wanting to stress her caretaker any further. When Jane walked, she walked on the balls of her feet, cautiously peeking around corners like a silly schoolgirl.

She had rarely ventured out of her room at St. Anthony's. The other patients had chased her, even thrown items at her, there. It had always been safer to stay in her room. And her room always had a clock.

But the patients were calmer here. Jane wondered if the potions really were more effective than the nasty little pills she had suffered through before. There wasn't a telly, they all seemed to be passively preoccupied talking to themselves or playing an animated version of chess.

If St. Anthony's had seemed like an overpopulated inner city school, this place was like a tightly knit homeschool group, with only a handful or residents. There was the forgetful man, whose memories seemed to rival hers in their likeness to a goldfish. There was the man with big ears and the tiny woman who always held his hand, and an older woman that barked at everything that moved. Her face was furry and poofy, as if she was mixed with some sort of poodle.

Sprocket, meanwhile, was talking to a tall, burly man in the doorway, her hands on her hips as she looked up at the much taller man. She commanded a large presence for such a small woman. If Jane squinted, she could envision her in a Napoleonic outfit, complete with an oversized hat.

"If the media gets wind of this-"

"We can't hold them off for much longer, Miriam. One of 'em is bound to slip in 'ere. Blimey, I don't even know how they got wind she was here in the first place."

"Someone in the ministry leaked it, I imagine. Which is splendid, since they're the ones taking their time deciding what they want to do with her. Don't mention this to anyone until we know for sure-"

"Aw, Strout, you know it's 'im. That door hasn't been wrong, yet."

"That charm was made to monitor those_ leaving_ this ward, not for guests _entering_ it. We took an oath to do what is best for our patients. We didn't rescue that woman from a muggle hospital just to toss her back on the streets or worse-Azkaban. She's innocent, and I won't have the Daily Prophet stringing her up due to some vague association with Black. Understood?"

"...is she, though?"

"Excuse me?"

"Innocent? I mean, she is now. But was she back then? They're sayin' she's Harry Potter's godmother, did you hear tha'? And Black was the godfather. And now there's a chance that he's been visitin' her. You don't think that's suspicious? Hell, if You-Know-Who walked in 'ere with his memory wiped, would you really welcome 'im with open arms?"

The older woman tightened her fists, seeming to grow another foot taller. She looked down her nose at the brawny man.

"Yes, I _would_. We don't get to pick and choose people's fates here, Mr. Bumbleton. Lockheart swindled hundreds. The Longbottoms likely saved hundreds. Yet they're both here, and they are both under our care. And as long as I am in charge of this ward, every patient will receive the utmost of that care, regardless of any accusations made against them. Is that clear?"

"Yes m'am." The other man muttered, casting a glance down the hallway. Jane froze, feeling like a cat caught on a counter. He shook his head at her, casting a look of disgust her way.

She bowed her head and turned back around the corner, not giving the senior nurse a chance to notice her.

The door was charmed, then. Somehow, this didn't sound like the craziest thing Jane had heard of. But marking a dog's coming's and going's, that did sound unusual. Although perhaps Jane wasn't the best gauge of what was usual.

She had scarcely turned the corner before running into another surprise.

"Are you lost?" The forgetful man sounded. His eyes were blank, as if he wasn't even aware of who he was speaking to, but when he smiled, he had a cheery grin that revealed dazzlingly white teeth. "My name is-well, I'm not sure I know what my name is, so perhaps I'm the one that's lost. And you are?" He asked, forcing a hand forward. She stared at it. Even with her own poor memory, she knew that they had gone through this routine before.

_Jane. _

"Hmm. Jane. That's a name they give to people who don't know who they are. Perhaps we're both lost. Do you have a map? I could sign it for you."

She shook her head, wondering why anyone would offer to sign a map.

"Oh, dear. Then I suppose we're both stuck. Not to worry dear, I'll get us out of here. Oh, I'm terribly sorry, I didn't get your name?"

_Jane. _She repeatedly dryly, staring at his hand, which was once again expecting a handshake. He seemed fond of autographs and handshakes.

"Jane. What a pretty name. You know, Jane Public is what they usually call-"

She walked away, sure that whatever hurt he might feel from the act would be shortly forgotten. She stopped a few feet down the hallway, sighting the couple with vacant eyes that were holding hands.

She was supposed to look after them, she remembered, although why she couldn't recall. Longbottom. Long bottom. What an embarrassing name. Maybe the couple didn't remember it, it would be a blessing for them, really.

She approached, but they didn't seem to notice her. The man with big ears was preoccupied with two birds nesting on the windowsill beside them.

They were delicate little things. They twittered and fluttered, but it wasn't the birds in particular the couple were consumed with, Jane realized, but the eggs the birds sat on. The woman popped a candy in her mouth, pocketing the wrapper as she did.

Jane felt unbearably sad for a reason she couldn't explain. She wanted to do anything to rid herself of the feeling, to disappear back into her room. But she wanted to make the two smile. And she doubted a milkshake would do the trick.

She put her eyebrows together, focusing on an unused napkin in the man's lap. It began spinning in fits, not wanting to follow her will. Jane took a deep breath, closing her eyes. She imagined the dog curled against her. She imagined the gangly man, imagined Katie smiling. Katie's smile transformed into the Longbottom woman's...but a much younger version of her.

She heard a pop, and startled, opened her eyes to find that she had succeeded. The napkin had transfigured into a large, gaudy hat, with feathers stitched all over. The pair looked down in a distant surprise, and to Jane's relief, they both smiled for a moment, before going back to their previous view.

_Your nest isn't empty, either. _She whispered. The woman looked back at her, smiling whimsically, her eyes rather vacant. "Oh, thank you. How nice of you to say."

She nodded, biting her lip. She glanced at the windowsill wistfully before tiptoeing back to her room.

* * *

She was aware of someone screaming.

"She's not ready! If you force a pensieve on her-."

"It's a matter of policy, I'm afraid…"

Dark feathers were falling. Glass was breaking.

"Happy memories, Cathy!"A voice pleaded, but other voices drowned it out.

_A clock was ticking._

_Just stay under the covers. She was safe as long as she stayed under the covers…_

_A clock was ticking._

"_You can't tell me you actually trust him? He's a werewolf!"_

"_That didn't seem to bother you in school. It's not him, Sirius."_

"_Well then, who the bloody else could it be?! Only a few of us knew where the Mckinnons were going to be that night. Greyback was _there_. Lupin _lied_ to me, Cathy. He lied to me about where he was that night. Why do you think that is?"_

"_I-I don't know, but Sirius, Remus would never-"_

_A clock was ticking._

"_You have to promise me, Weiss, if I don't make it out of here-"_

"_Don't talk like that."_

"_Destroy it. Hide it, find whatever bloody runic magic you need to, just destroy it…"_

_A clock was ticking._

_I'm not going to kill him, just make him disappear…_

_A clock was ticking._

_Something was wrong. It was midnight. Sirius should have been there by now, no matter how upset he was with her..._

_A clock was ticking._

_Her face was pressed against ground, the mud cool against her skin. She could feel blood pooling beneath her, her warmth leaving with it. A raven cawed. She could hear a man talking with others, his voice high-pitched and afraid. They wore strange masks. She didn't know where she was, or how she had gotten there. She just knew that she had to get away from that man. She closed her eyes, feeling a tug at her navel-_

_A clock was ticking._

_Cathy….?_

_A clock was ticking._

_Cathy, stop it!_

_A clock was ticking._

_Cathy, snap out of it, wake up!_

_A clock was ticking. _

_A stout woman was standing in front of her, her voice loud and frantic. She shook Jane as she spoke, but the only words that were coming out of her mouth were muddled with gibberish._

"_On the count of five, we're going to take a deep breath, and this will all be over."_

_Get out get out get out get out_

"_Five…."_

_A motorcycle thrummed, and a man grinned back at her. Damn, he was hot._

"_Four…."_

_She was cold, and the alleyway smelled of dung. She shifted, avoiding needles as she made a bed of newspapers. _

"_Three…."_

"_We won't really date. It's just for pretend. But you get to get back at all those girls that made fun of you, and I give ol' Prongs a chance to hang out with Lily."_

"_Two…"_

"_What's the catch?"_

"_No catch."_

"_There's always a catch, Black."_

"_One…"_

"_It was never real, Cathy."_

"_It became real, and you know it."_

"_Cathy, wake up!"_

The clock came to a screeching halt. Its pendulum shattered. She had been the one that was screaming, she realized. But now others were, too.

And she felt _powerful _for it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: Rebel, Rebel**

**1995, date unknown.**

No clock. No silence. Just two people talking above her.

"You should have told me about her family curse." A woman spoke, her tone slightly accusing.

"I had forgotten about it, honestly. It's not something she ever talked about, I didn't know how it worked. I thought it just made her magic weak. The Slytherins used to call her 'Squib-blood' like it was a slur."

"Quite the contrary. And it explains why she was such a good healer. She must have been doing the same thing back then, but in reverse. Instead of draining people's magical stores, she was giving them her own."

"Will Hopkirk be ok?"

"Merlin, I hope not. It would serve her right, the twit."

"I do believe that's the closest I've ever heard you come to sounding unprofessional, Mrs. Strout."

"Pfft. She'll be on the first floor for a few days, I'm sure. Her magical reserves will need to rebuild. But if I hadn't been able to break Cathy out of it….Hopkirk could have_ died,_ Remus. It wasn't just Hopkirk's magic that Cathy was depleting, the woman lost over twenty pounds in just thirty seconds. And while as a diet plan that sounds inviting, in any other case….

Muggles have been doing away with their asylums for quite some time. Governmental budgets and such. For someone to stay in one, especially for such an extended time…it makes me wonder."

"You think Cathy's done this before."

"It's possible. I'm tempted to ward off her room, but I'm not sure what good it would do. Those windows are heavily enchanted. It's the same ward you'd see at the windows in Hogwarts, to prevent patients from committing suicide or hurting someone. And she shattered it like it was a first-year spell. I'm frankly amazed the pensieve didn't break."

"Will what they found help her, at least?

"The memories are only in fragments, but-yes. There were a couple of moments that will work in her favor. Particularly one."

"But you can't talk about it."

"Patient confidentiality, I'm afraid. Dumbledore will need a court order for that."

"From what I hear, Hopkirk didn't need one."

"Hopkirk didn't give us a choice. She-it wasn't anything that reveals the extent of what happened to her, but-I will say-although perhaps I shouldn't-there were deatheaters. And it was clear that they were _not_ on Cathy's side."

"I think we already knew that."

"Well, now the Ministry does, too. You saw the paper this morning, haven't you? They're already backtracking. _The Witch the World Forgot - Kidnapped and Left for Dead by Black."_

"I figured the Ministry leaked that, too."

"You figured right. Bumbleton might be a fool, but he's our fool. I run a tight ship, Mr. Lupin. Those leaks didn't come from my staff. But I can't do anything when minister assistants and head secretaries come trouncing in and out of here as they please. Whatever Dumbledore is planning...he needs to hurry."

"He's a bit-distracted at the moment. There are matters with Harry, you see-but he's working on it."

"Hmm. That's what you said last time. Matters with a Mr. Potter, or matters with a Mr. Broderick Bode, I wonder?"

"I...you're too clever for your own good, Strout. It's a wonder you never joined us."

"I made an oath, Mr. Lupin. I don't believe I would be able to join the Order and keep it. But if you need someone to uphold a patients' rights, you know who to turn to."

"Of course. Thank you. And, uh, Mrs. Strout?"

"Yes?"

"Will you keep an eye on these, for me? The last lilies I sent disappeared."

"That's...strange. Of course. And Lupin, about Black…"

"Yes?"

"Has he-oh, never mind. I'm sure it's nothing. Good day, Mr. Lupin."

"Are you sure? Well, er...good day, ma'am."

There was a pause, and then a hand on her shoulder.

"Cathy...if you can hear me...I'll be back soon, alright?"

_Bye bye, Remus. _Jane thought dryly, before fading back into a daze.

* * *

She woke to darkness and a warm tongue.

She wanted it to go away. She wanted to sleep, and to never stop sleeping, but the paws and dogspit kept bringing her back.

"_Get out of here, you mangy mutt." _She grunted, covering her head with a pillow.

But the paws didn't stop digging, and the dark hound didn't stop burying its head into her shoulder.

"_Maybe I'm_ your_ grim." _She muttered darkly, envisioning a world with no rats, no rabbits, no glass, and no dogs. Perhaps she didn't really mean that last one.

"_Get out. Get out, get out, get out, get out….."_ She sounded pathetic, even to her own ears. Why couldn't she be like Katie? Why couldn't she be blissfully unaware that she was crazy? Why couldn't she let go of the bad thoughts? The missing pieces?

But to her surprise, her pleas worked. The dog seemed to hesitate, as if coming to a decision. There was a crackling noise. She chose to ignore it. Maybe the dog had left.

But he hadn't.

"Cathy, please." A gravely, scarcely used voice broke out. She opened her eyes to find that a disheveled, gaunt man had taken the dog's place. Somehow, she knew they were one and the same.

"Remus told me what happened. I shouldn't have left you here with them." He whispered desperately, sitting on her bed and taking her hands into his. His palms were rough, but his voice soft. "I thought you were dead all this time….I'm not letting you get taken away again. You deserve better than that."

"_I don't know you." _She said flatly. The man let go of her hands, drawing back as if she had slapped him. A mournful look came over him, similar to the same one he had given her as a dog.

"You made me promise the other day, that I would come back, even if you didn't remember me. Well, I'm here. And I'll always be here, Cat."

_Something was wrong. It was midnight. Sirius should have been there by now. No matter how upset he was with her-_

"You're doing it, again. Shite. Cathy, look at me, come back to me-"

"_You _weren't_ there." _She accused suddenly.

"What?"

"_You were mad at me and you didn't come home. I kept looking at the clock, I kept waiting for you-"_

"Merlin, Cathy-"

"_I need a clock, Mr. Ziggy Dog, why won't they give me a clock?"_

"Cathy, I'm-"

"_I need the ticking, something to make the rats go away. I need the chimes, I was supposed to tell him something, something important-I want to forget, but I don't want to forget-"_

"I'm fucking sorry, alright!" He roared suddenly, losing control of his volume. She stopped, frightened, but he didn't seem to take notice, instead glancing at the doorway nervously before resorting back to a whisper. "It was all my fault. All of it. Leaving you, not being the secret keeper….it was my big, colossal fuck up, alright?"

"We fought that morning about Remus, and I-I didn't go home after my patrol. I wanted to make a point, to _hurt_ you. I slept on James's couch, didn't respond to your owls...and then your owls stopped. I thought you were just mad at me. But when I….when your apartment was bloodied….and you had mentioned you were going to talk to Lupin…..I thought for sure he had done it, that he had duped you, that he had _killed _you or even kidnapped you. But I was wrong. It wasn't him. It was _never _him."

It was as if the man had stolen her breath away from her. She stared at him, wide-eyed.

"If I had listened to you, none of this would have happened, and James and Lily would still be alive. So I'm fucking sorry, alright? But I'm here now, and I want to help you."

"…_.how?"_

"By getting you out of here. If you still want me to, that is." The man murmured, giving her a measured look. An unspoken question lingered. _If you still want _me_._

She felt a sudden sense of deja vu. Instead of the long haired man, a balding ginger was looking at her expectantly, waiting for a decision.

"_Are we going to another hospital?" _She asked cautiously, trying to recall just who that redhead was.

"No, Cathy. We're going home. Or at least, what I have to call home, these days. You've met my mother before, real piece of work, that one. But anyplace is better than here, right?" He watched her, watched the emotions she was sure were flickering across her face. He gently put his hand under her chin, causing her to look back up at him.

"Just think of it, it would be like the old days. Me, dragging you off into an adventure you didn't want. You, the good girl with the bad boy, protesting all the way, but secretly glad you came along." Old days? She didn't remember the old days. She didn't even remember new days. But an adventure….an adventure sounded better than a rescue.

She looked out the doorway nervously.

"_We can't go through the big door."_

"I figured that," The man barked cheerfully, hopeful at her response. She could see the dog in him, she decided. His tongue was practically rolling to the side as he grinned. "I could manage it as a dog, but they'd take one look at you and send you back to the loony bin. But they didn't re-enchant your window after you broke it the other day... so I may have taken some liberties." He grinned, practically skipping over to it. He was right. Where the latch normally wouldn't budge, it unhinged easily. With the window open, she could hear a distant, familiar thrum.

The man whistled, and the thrum grew louder. A motorbike flew into view, its headbeam lighting the room.

She breathed deeply, the image she had seen before coming back to her. The disheveled man morphed into a grinning teen, with shining locks and an annoyingly suave grin. He jumped on, and scooting the floating bike closer, offered her his hand. But his smile was hesitant now, and his eyes more desperate than they had ever been back then. He reminded her of the forgetful man for a moment, desperate to relive the past. But if she walked away, this man wouldn't be able to forget the hurt away like the one with shiny teeth could. In fact, contrary to his younger self, this man looked as if he might crumple in half if she declined.

She scrunched her eyebrows together, the wind whipping through her thin hospital shift. She had done this before, she realized. Once, when she was much younger. When her hair was thicker and her memory better.

"_Are you….Sirius?"_ She asked, the familiar name slipping off her tongue.

"As a doornail." He retorted with that hesitant smile, for once not understanding the cruelest joke the universe ever played on Catherine Weiss.

She nodded, tearfully stepping forward. She took his hand and jumped on.

She yelped in surprise, her right leg failing to swing over the side of the motorbike, leaving her dangling. The disheveled man was quick, however, and catching her, swung her over himself. She winced. A pain ran through her right foot, an old one that lingered from time to time. The man was so enthusiastic, he didn't seem to notice.

"Hold my waist, remember?" It was a stupid question to ask, and the look she gave him told him such. "Er, right. Well, you're doing fine now, as it is. We better hurry, I should have put a silencing spell on this blasted thing…"

He pulled out a mangled stick, waving it about like a madman. She watched in wonder, feeling his energy thrum haphazardly in the air. The engine's grumble disappeared, leaving only the crickets and the occasional owl.

_How did you do that?_ She breathed, reaching out for his stick. He pulled it away, as if by instinct, before giving her an equally baffled look.

"You mean, my wand? Like magic? How I did magic?"

She nodded eagerly, recalling how Longbottom's napkin had resisted her efforts. Having a stick would have made it much easier. He swallowed hard in response to her question, a crack emerging through his overly eager demeanor.

"You don't…." He stuttered, a devastated look coming over him. "...we'll talk about that later, let's just get you home first. We don't want to get caught, you know." She gave a tiny nod, tightening her hold around his waist, which seemed to satisfy him. He pulled a lever, and her world lurched forward.

It was _breathtaking_. It was _exhilarating_. It was bloody _frightening_. But most of all, it was _freeing_.

She heard mild cursing, and with another wave of his stick, she found her voice as silenced as the motorcycle's engine. She had screamed, she realized. She bowed her head in embarrassment, feeling like an obnoxious teenager with a date her father wouldn't approve of.

She tapped his shoulder, wondering if this is what Katie had felt like. Stupid. Noisy. Childish. Yet the other woman hadn't seemed to realize that she was any of the three at the time. Jane wished she could say the same.

"Sorry, love, we shouldn't have been as loud as we were, to be right honest. We'll need to keep low until we get there, alright?" She nodded, sighing, looking up around her. While he had said that they needed to stay low, he kept flying higher and higher until all she could see below them were clouds, and all she could see above them were stars.

"_Are we ok now?" _She whispered, willing the muddled speech away. He looked back in bewilderment.

"How did you...? Er, yeah. Yeah, we need to keep quiet, but we can whisper now. Did you-"

"_Do you have goggles?" _She asked, burying her face into his back. The wind had grown to feel cold, and the faster they drove, the more it bit her skin.

"Shite. Er, no, I don't, I'm sorry, I didn't think. You're good as long as you keep our face behind my jacket, yeah?"

She nodded, not sure if he could feel the movement through his jacket or not. "_I wanted to see the stars. They're pretty."_

"You always did like them. I always thought astrology was a bunch of nonsense. Same with those stones of yours." He mentioned offhandedly. She wasn't sure what he meant, but she supposed she did like pebbles in the hospital's fish tank.

"You called me Ziggy Dog, earlier. " He mentioned suddenly, seeming amused. "Do you remember David Bowie?"

She blinked, shaking her head. She wasn't sure why she had called him that. It had felt right. His face fell.

"Oh. Well, he was a singer, back in the 70s. I was more of a Zeppelin fan, myself, but we used to listen to him on the muggle radio all the time. Especially if I ever drove you around like this. One of his personas was Ziggy Stardust. He was supposed to be an alien that came to earth to bring hope, or some rubbish like that. When you mentioned him, I thought-well, never mind."

Ziggy Stardust. She liked the sound of that. She smiled, eyeing the mist below. "_It feels like we're driving on stardust." _Her smile faltered as she realized how childish that must sound. Nothing came out of her mouth right, anymore.

"You know?" He paused, sending another lopsided grin her way. "It does. It really does."

And somehow, that simple comment made everything feel right with the world.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: The Chain**

**1995, date unknown.**

She woke to a tiny, angry, crinkly man staring at her, inches from her nose.

She screamed, but his tiny hands moved in the air, an all-too-familiar silencing effect coming across her lips. He glared at her accusingly. He wasn't just tiny, he was smaller than a child, yet he had a frightening, irritable presence to him that terrified her to her core. Except for a filthy rag tied like a loincloth around its middle, she realized, he was completely naked. Bald, an abundance of white hair grew out of his large, batlike ears, and his eyes were as bloodshot as his nose was large and snoutlike. Whatever this thing was, it wasn't human. In fact, she was really only guessing that it was male.

She glanced around the room desperately. This wasn't St. Anthony's. This wasn't St. Mumbo Jumbo's. She wasn't sure where this place was, just that it was dark and gloomy and there was a tiny crinkly man glaring at her and where were her covers she had to stay beneath her covers-

"Where is it?! Where is it?!" The creature howled. He kept looking around the covers as if she had hidden the mysterious object there. She let out a muffled shriek, shaking her head desperately.

"All these years, Kreacher is thinking that the _squib-blood_ missus is dead. All these years, Kreacher is thinking to himself that he has failed his poor old master, and then _she_ shows up, bold as brass! The poor mistress would be rolling in her grave if she knew, but Kreacher must find it for the old master's sake! Where has the squib blood missus hidden it?!"

She held back a sob, feeling energy bottling within her. What had the disheveled man called it? _Magic._

_Crack._

The crinkly creature drew back as if he had been hit, looking around in alarm. He hadn't, as far as she could see. His shoulders were hunched and his skin so old that the mere pressure he had put against the covers he had lifted now marred his skin, but he wasn't injured.

_Crack. _Yet.

This time the noise had a definite origin. Chains were rustling, and just as the creature looked up, a light fixture-a mini chandelier of some sort-came crashing down on the creature's head.

Her encounter with the creature was so frighteningly short, she wondered for a moment if it had happened at all. But when she peered above the covers, it was still lying on the ground with glass shards surrounding it, and when she gazed around, she was still in the same strange, gloomy place she had been before.

She had gotten rid of this silencing thing before, she knew, but how she couldn't recall how. She sniffed, wiping her nose on her shift. It was a hospital robe, although from what hospital she didn't know and didn't care. It was dirty and she wanted it off.

Ignoring the still creature, she launched herself forward, walking in circles until she found a dresser that looked centuries old. She struggled to open its drawers, but upon doing so found clothes that were covered in more dust than she had ever thought possible.

_It's just a dream it's just a dream it's just a dream just stay under the covers just keep quiet it's just a dream-_

But her own clothes felt real and dirty against her skin, and she wanted them _off._ The dress she held was impossibly large and baggy compared to her frame, she knew, but anything was better than her shift.

A chime floated through the room suddenly, and she froze, the hospital fabric already at her ankles. She looked around, but there was no one in sight, save for that….that…._thing. _

She swallowed, resuming what she was doing. She was almost beginning to regret having chosen the gown. While she had slipped into it rather easily, the endless amount buttons puzzled her, seeming like something one would have worn in a film. The high neck was made in an itchy, intricate lace, the skirts overly long.

But as she fastened the last button, the robe had a mind of its own. The skirts flared out, a bustle appearing suddenly behind her and an invisible force tightening to a nearly unbearable point around her waist. She stumbled in surprise, landing beside the knocked out creature.

The chime rang out again, and she froze, listening. To her surprise, she didn't hear anything else. The walls seemed impossibly thick, or perhaps charmed, she mused. But what were those chimes?

She paused, however, realizing the one thing she didn't hear. The creature's breathing.

"_Hullo?" _She inquired, using one hand to brace herself against the floor, and another to poke the creature. "_Tiny angry man?" _But he didn't wake.

A pit of horror bloomed within her, and she found herself unable to speak, this time her muteness not from any type of enchantment. She had killed him, she was sure of it.

She held back another cry, and ignoring an old pain shooting through her right foot, desperately crawled her way out of the room, her skirts rustling angrily behind her. She used the doorway to brace herself upright, and turned the handle.

It rattled in a way only haunted house doors rattled, impressioning upon her just how old this place really was.

"Kreacher, you blasted old maggot, what good is a house elf that can't even answer the door?!" A familiar voice echoed through the hallways, shouting pointedly at a creature that wasn't there. A _tiny _creature, she realized suddenly, to her dismay.

"It's a wonder he doesn't kill you in your sleep one of these days, you know." A voice muttered bemusedly, footsteps echoing below. Jane turned, realizing that she was on a second floor, her room in a hallway that led to the top of a stairwell.

"Remus! Oh, don't bother worrying, that old bat would never purposely bring an end to the 'oh so noble house of Black.' So, er, what brings you-"

"You know very well what brings me here, Padfoot, otherwise you wouldn't have closed your floo. _Where is she?_"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're not as a good of a liar as you think you are. Not with me." The other voice sounded tiredly, footsteps pacing. "Cathy?!"

That name. She had been called that name before. She stepped forward, but stopped, hesitating.

"I don't know what you're impl-"

"Do you realize how serious this? How _idiotic_ this is, even for you?"

"Why yes, I realize how 'serious' I am-"

"THIS ISN'T THE TIME FOR JOKES. For the love of merlin, Sirius. The whole wizarding world's gone mad looking for her. You wanted to stay out of the news, hang low? Well, having your motorcycle on the front page _isn't it._" She heard a dramatic smacking of paper against flesh, followed by a pause.

"Oh, bloody hell."

"'Oh bloody hell' doesn't even begin to cover it. I don't even want to know where you nicked the bike from. You beat _Harry_ to the cover, if you can believe that. The announcement for his disciplinary hearing was pushed back to page 2. "

"Seriously, Umbridge is still on about that?"

"Well, they _were_ backing off of Cathy, so they wanted someone else to make an example of, I presume. But now the papers are busy deciding whether Cathy's a kidnapping victim or suffering from stockholm syndrome, and to be quite honest, I'm not sure that they're wrong on either counts."

"Oh, come off it. You saw what they were doing to her in there. She was withering away-"

"Sirius-"

"They were forcibly interrogating her, you said so yourself-"

"Sirius-"

"Ok, I get it, you're angry with me-"

"Sirius! Listen to me. I'm not sure how much you've seen, and trust me, I want her out of Hopkirk's path as much as the next person. But Cathy needs _help._"

"Just because she doesn't remember-"

"You haven't seen her episodes, Sirius. Not the full extent of them, anyways. I'm not even sure I have, really. And the healers are worried that she might still have withdrawals from the muggle medicine-"

"That doesn't mean she's less of a-"

"She nearly _killed_ Hopkirk. She didn't even realize what she had done-"

"She was defending herself, you said so yourself, she's not-"

"She's dangerous, Sirius, she needs a mind healer-"

"SHE'S NOT CRAZY." Jane withdrew back, shuddering into the wall. The disheveled man's voice broke as he spoke, and their conversation in the hospital began to come back to her. He was the same then, with wild and desperate eyes like a wounded animal's. She could hear him breathing heavily now, sense a silent conversation passing between the two men.

The calmer man spoke incredulously. "This isn't about her, is it? It's about you."

"I'm doing it for _her._" The man insisted weakly. "I-I know what it's like. To be locked away, forgotten. To see the same room, day after day, nobody bloody understanding when your mind caves in. People looking at you like you're mad. She deserves to be free, Remus. Not locked in a cage like a damn owl."

"Do you think taking her away is going to stop the ministry from coming after her? Once they finished their investigation, she had a real chance there, Sirius. They have good healers on that ward, the same healers that have been working with the Longbottoms-"

"And a good fat lot of help that's done Frank and Alice." The other man muttered.

"She was beginning to remember things on her own. She remembered Frank, did you know that? She was in a safe, familiar environment, she was making progress, and you just ripped her away from all of that. And what about the Order? Don't think just one of them might turn her back in? I'm tempted to, and I'm your friend!"

"Dumbledore would never let them."

"Dumbledore might do it, himself." The other man argued pointedly. The two continued to bicker, their voices rising as the same arguments repeated themselves, more heatedly and with more and more anger behind it each time.

"_Greyback was _there_. Lupin_ lied _to me, Cathy. He lied to me about where he was that night. Why do you think that is?"_

"_I-I don't know, but Sirius, Remus would never-"_

"_Stop yelling!" _She screeched, putting her hands on her ears. She didn't remember going to the top of the stairwell, she didn't remember facing them or them even noticing she was there. But they noticed now, and the disheveled man raced up the steps towards her.

"_It wasn't him, it wasn't him, it wasn't him-"_

He enveloped her in a hug. While his touch was comforting, her hands remained on her ears, tears continuing to trek down her face. From behind the disheveled man's back, the gangly man stood, a cross between relief and resignation in his eyes.

"Sh….it's fine. See? We stopped arguing. We're fine, you're fine. We're all fine."

"She doesn't look fine to me." The gangly man murmured softly, walking up the stairwell to join them. Concern spilled out of his eyes as he looked her over.

"I'm sorry we woke you, you conked out as soon as we got here. Would you like some tea? I'm sure I could get that mangy house elf-" Sirius began.

"_I think I killed the tiny angry man_." She blurted suddenly, taking shuddering breaths as her voice threatened to whimper. The disheveled man broke the hug, and the gangly man's eyebrows shot up into an increasingly receding hairline.

"...Kreacher? You think you killed….Kreacher?" Sirius blinked, looking at her, really looking at her for the first time since she had emerged from her room. "Wait, what are you wearing?" She ignored his question, instead pointing back to her room.

"_He was yelling at me and the lights fell from the sky and he kept pulling at my covers-"_

"Er….just, uh, wait here, I'll go see what happened-"

It was at that moment the trio heard a clang resounding down the hallway. A groan echoed, chains chattering as they rattled across a hardwood floor.

She screamed as the walking corpse emerged from her room, and dove behind Sirius, peaking over his shoulder at the sight. Gray water bubbled beneath the corpse's feet, his eyes glaring at her as they swiveled her way. He was still bound by the same circular iron fixture as before, blood dripping down his thin, wrinkled skin from the glass that had been littered across it. A word flittered across her mind. _Inferi._

"What is the squib-blood missus wearing?!" The creature shrieked, not seeming too preoccupied with its own physical state. It tried to lunge forward, but tripped on the chains it had been dragging, falling to the floor once more.

"Bloody hell, Kreacher, is that what this is about? A ruddy _dress?!_"

"That _gown_ was the dear old mistress's favorite, passed on to her by her grandmother before her-"

"And I'm sure out of the lot of 'em, Cathy's the only one that managed to wear it well. Now get that ridiculous chandelier off your head-"

"I'm sure it's too heavy for him, Sirius." The gangly man murmured, pulling a stick out of his pocket and waving it about. In an instant, the chandelier was gone, along with any shards of glass embedded in the creature's skin. Jane blinked, an ever too familiar feeling of deja vu coming over her.

"Poor old mistress. If she knew what mudbloods and squib bloods were in her noble house, how her blood traitor son was defiling its noble halls-"

"Noble, my arse. This place was a dump before Molly and her lot started working on it. If you cared so much about old gowns and light fixtures, you should have kept the cobwebs and mothballs out of them. And what did I tell you about bothering Cathy?"

Kreacher glowered at the disheveled man, casting a disgusted look in her direction before huffing off down the hallway.

"See?" Sirius remarked, rolling his eyes. "No matter what you do, you can't kill the son of a bitch. Tough and annoying as hell, that one."

Annoying wasn't quite the right word, Jane mused. Katie was annoying, but Kreacher...he was something else. But he hadn't been upset over just her gown, not initially, anyways. He had been searching for something. Something he was convinced that she had taken.

Wisely, or perhaps foolishly, she decided not to tell the two men about the strange encounter, settling instead for mere relief that she hadn't permanently hurt the miserable little man.

"_What is he?"_

"A house elf. One of the many dark artefacts I inherited with this place, unfortunately. I'd been hoping he would die of natural causes for ages, at least you hurried that process along."

That didn't sound very nice. She wasn't sure Sirius was very nice in general, although he had been very nice to her. He was looking her over now, a strange look coming across his face.

"Although seeing you in that dress is a bit...er...disconcerting. Where the ruddy hell did you find it, anyways?"

"_In a drawer. My other clothes were dirty."_

"Oh. Right. Sorry, I didn't think about that."

"You didn't think about a lot of things." The gangly man retorted, causing Jane to feel like a child in the middle of a parents' squabble. He sighed deeply, shaking his head. "The advance guard plans on flying Harry here tomorrow. The Weasley's and Ms. Granger are going to come by and stay the night."

"Oh."

"Oh." The gangly man teased, releasing a deep sigh. "You forgot, I take it?"

"I didn't _forget,_ I just thought, well blimey, this week has gone by fast. But that's a good thing, though, isn't it? She'll get to meet Harry."

"And you'll get to own up to what you did sooner than you planned." Sirius didn't seem to have a response for this, instead finding his shoes altogether fascinating.

Another chime rang out, but this one was fainter than the one she had heard before, sounding less like a doorbell and more like a-could it be?

She didn't know how she hadn't noticed it sooner. It was impossibly old, likely even older than the dresser she had dug the victorian-looking dress out of. While layered in dust, the engravings and woodwork were intricate, the pendulum an aged gold.

_It was a grandfather clock._

She was drawn to it like a moth to a flame, leaving the two men to their conversation. Her fingers ran over the grooves, tracing the etchings. Constellations were scattered across the clock's face, but the engraver had continued the pattern, etching and staining other constellations deep into the wood in a richer color, stretching all the way down the base. She could feel a deep hum of energy, an old clock with old magic, and as she pressed her ear to the wood, she heard a sound she had been craving for weeks.

_Tick._

_Tock._

Relief flooded over her in waves, her jaw trembling as she turned back to the confused pair. She looked at the gangly man, scouring her brain for a name.

"_Remus?" _She paused, somewhat shocked.

"Yes, Cathy?"

"_Can I stay? Please?"_ The man faltered, slipping for a moment out of the role of the nagging parent, and back into the gangly boy she had known. Stuck between the two, he didn't give her an answer, his jaw wavering.

She took that as a yes. She turned back the clock, closing her eyes as she listened.

_Stardust._ She told herself, losing herself in the clock's steady hum. The clock struck eight. _It's like listening to stardust._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven: Candle in the Wind**

**August 5, 1995**

"Oh dear."

Those were the first words the Molly woman said upon seeing her. Remus and Sirius had warned her that the older woman would be coming, with a band of children in tow. But when Jane had imagined children, she had imagined a bus of school children, not teenagers and preteens of different shapes and sizes.

"_Er….hello."_ Jane waved awkwardly. Remus had been playing a game of chess opposite of her, and not facing the door, turned around to look at their guests. While the guests themselves were expected, it didn't seem that they had been expecting Jane.

"Hello, Molly. I take it you saw the news?" Remus smiled, giving a light-hearted sigh. The motherly woman blinked rapidly, hands full of groceries and cleaning products. Several teenagers rough-housed behind her, oblivious to what was going on. But a brunette, the odd one of the bunch, popped her eyes out in response, elbowing a somewhat less observant boy as if he should be noticing something important.

"I did, but-well, oh my stars." The woman bustled forward, her band of children practically falling over each other in the doorway behind her. "It's been years, pleasure to see you again, my dear. Molly Weasley. I might have been Prewitt then, still."

Jane nodded and smiled in greeting, uncertain whether she should remember this woman or not. The name sounded familiar. But what didn't, these days?

"Nobody besides us knows yet. Sirius is talking with Dumbledore now." Remus murmured quietly, most of the brood behind the woman not listening as they trounced in.

"I'll talk to the children." Molly seemed to go with the flow rather easily, adjusting a brown grocery bag in her arms. "In the meantime, we have enough to feed an army, one more isn't any trouble at all." She smiled a motherly smile before ushering the staring pack down the hallway and into a grand dining room.

Jane sat awkwardly, reminded of the times nursing students had gawked at her. The red-headed lot were like a bunch of curious chipmunks, popping glances in and out as they discussed various things. But the brunette lingered back with one of the gingers, unnoticed by the Molly woman.

"I read _all_ about you in the paper. It's nice to meet you, I'm Hermione Granger." The girl introduced herself matter-of-factly, offering a hand. "Ron and I are Harry's best friends." The fluffy-haired girl explained pleasantly, as if Jane should know what to do with this information. Jane thought perhaps the girl was being hard on herself. While her hair was poofy, she wasn't otherwise hairy, and her friend scarcely had any arm hair at all.

Jane shook the girl's hand, passing an uncertain glance towards the gangly man.

"Ms. Weiss and Harry are unfortunately ignorant of each other, Ms. Granger. Dumbledore didn't want to worry Harry about it until his arrival, and Cathy…" he trailed off, searching for a diplomatic explanation. Jane swallowed, turning back to the young girl.

"_My memory's not good."_ She finished for him, trying to make light of the situation. She glanced back at the chess game in front of them._ "In fact, I'm afraid the gangly man has had to explain this game a few times. He's playing by himself, at this point."_

"The gangly man?" The red-headed boy repeated, his mouth agape. Herm...Herminny? Hermona swatted at his shoulder, another bit of silent communication occurring between the two as the ginger rubbed his arm, pouting.

Jane bit her lip. "_Er...Remus. Right?"_ She tried to explain, uncertain. Remus nodded in response, and a sense of relief washed over her.

"Do…." The fluffy-haired girl paused, looking as if she was going to regret what she was about to ask. "...do you know who Harry _is_?"

Jane blinked, trying to make sense of what the young girl was asking her. She cast another inquisitive glance towards the gangly man, wondering if he could translate. Instead, he seemed perplexed by the question, posing another one himself.

"He would have been just a baby when you saw him last. Do you remember them, Cathy? James and Lily Potter? Harry's their son."

"_I'm sorry."_ She whispered, shaking her head. "_I didn't remember you, either, until I saw you. Maybe if I saw them again-"_ She paused mid sentence, her plea having a visible effect on the man. She suddenly felt as if she had said something very wrong.

"I don't-" He said quietly, taking a deep breath. "I don't think that will be possible, Cathy. They passed away a long time ago. Not too long after you went missing, in fact."

"_Oh."_ She bit her lip. "_I'm sorry." _

"It's alright, you didn't know. In fact-I don't know if anyone has ever told you."

"_We were all friends, weren't we? But we all went separate ways_."

Remus nodded, not looking the two teens in the eye. "Yes, we were. But fate has brought us back together again, it would seem. Just not all of us."

"_Like chess."_ She murmured, eyeing the pieces on the board, at the discarded pawns, the fallen knight. All of that to capture a king. She watched the animated pieces yawn out of boredom, unhappy with their wait.

"Like chess." Remus agreed sadly, suddenly not so enthused with his game.

Before her eyes, the black pieces twisted into inferi, the king the largest and scariest of them all. The king on her side twisted and grunted, growing a long beard and gaining a stark resemblance to Merlin. One of the knights' horses let out a whinny before transforming into a motorcycle's engine, a young Sirius throwing the knight's helmet to the side. The other turned into a miniature Remus, riding on what was now a horse-sized wolf.

"Wicked." The red-headed boy gaped, circling the game. The brunette's eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her skull, a common trademark of hers, apparently. Jane looked between the three onlookers, cocking her head to the side.

"_You….you can see it? It's real? Not just in my head?"_

"Very real." Remus said quietly, watching as the different chess pieces began to twist and change. Even the floor of the game was morphing, the different squares becoming grid spaces on the face of a giant grandfather clock. He was particularly interested in a rat-faced man emerging among the inferi on the opposing side.

"You can do wandless magic?" Herminny asked in wonder, looking between Jane and the chess pieces. "You didn't even-you didn't even use hand movements! That's brilliant. It's incredibly rare."

As the poofy-haired witch spoke, the pieces continued to twist and change to spite her. Some of the inferi were twisting into hooded men, while the white bishops twisted into a messy haired man with glasses and a red-headed woman. The rooks were changing too, one into Nurse Strout, another into the balding ginger man.

She didn't recognize many of the pawns. A dark skinned woman stood tall, keeping her chin high. One of the fallen pawns was a dark haired, sullen looking man, gripping some sort of chain tightly in his tiny hands. Another fallen pawn caught Jane's attention. At first she thought he was Not-Dash, but this boy beamed with confidence. He actually _was _Dash, she realized, still not quite sure what that meant. The Longbottom man stood tall, younger than she had seen him last but with the same distinctive ears. A dark haired, sad looking girl was among them, as well, wiping away metal tears that were reabsorbing into the figure's metal form. Beside her, a strange rabbit-like creature licked its paws, cleaning a bedraggled mane of gray hair.

"Merlin." Remus breathed, examining the figures. He seemed to recognize some of them, and he wasn't the only one.

"You know Dad?" The red-headed boy asked in surprise, watching the balding figure as it offered them all a smile.

"_Weasel man?"_ She asked uncertainly. The red-headed boy's face grew red as well, not quite pleased with this nickname.

"_Weasley_, yes. Molly is his wife, and Ron is his son." Remus repeated slowly, as if this was something she should already know. His own attention stopped at one of the fallen pawns.

"Regulus?" He pondered incredulously, squinting as if to verify his suspicions. Jane shrugged, not recognizing the figure, herself. "I'm surprised you put him on our side. Or included him at all. Do you see these two figures?" He asked, pointing to the ginger woman and the man with glasses. "That's James and Lily."

She squinted, trying to make out facial features as best as she could from their six inch frames. She shook her head.

"_I'm sorry. I still don't know them."_

"You must, down deep." Herminny murmured thoughtfully. "You conjured them, after all."

The red-headed boy seemed surprisingly interested, in fact, utterly enthralled with the different pieces. "Your queen didn't change." He remarked, pointing at the queen's spot. The usual default piece stood in its stead. "Guess it's cause you haven't met Harry, yet, huh?"

"Ron-" Hermione started, but the boy looked indignant.

"I don't mean it as a bad thing! The Queen's the most bloody useful of the lot of 'em. Especially towards the endgame."

The poofy haired girl seemed to accept this. "Oh, I thought-well, never mind what I thought. Ronald _is_ the best in our class at chess." She acquiesced. "Best in the school even, if he'd practice."

"And who am I supposed to practice against? You and Harry always get tired of-"

A door opened, old hinges echoing as two figures emerged. Jane had the distinct impression of a boy returning from the headmaster's office, with a half-sheepish, half-defiant look on Sirius's face as he strode out.

The figure behind him took Jane's breath away.

"_Merlin."_ She breathed, suddenly not sure if she was really in this dreary house or back in St. Anthony's solitary. Candles swirled around him, his twinkling eyes reflecting their light as his eyes met hers.

"Albus Dumbledore, actually. It's nice to see you again, Ms. Weiss. It's always a pleasure to see how old students of mine are faring."

_Dumbledore. _

The name had no meaning for her, and sounded about as ridiculous as Herminny or St. Mumbo Jumbo's. But the gentle elderly man before her had been one consistent hallucination throughout the years, and now everyone in the room was looking toward him as if he was actually _there._

"_Are you…."_ She started slowly, making sure that it wasn't a part of her imagination, that the room's attention really was on this hunched figure. "_Are you real?"_

The man's eyes softened even more than they had before, and he nodded. "Indeed I am, Ms. Weiss. Indeed I am. And it is quite a miracle that brought you here with us. The Order has been delighted since Arthur broke the news. You've brought back old memories for all of us, it would seem." He said softly, his eyes almost glazed. Jane wondered if those memories were good ones.

But if he had seemed a feeble old man one minute, he snapped back to attention the next, his eyes glittering in interest as he spotted the customized chess pieces.

"Marvelous spellwork, Ms. Weiss. Few people would have such apt attention to detail, I would think, particularly in the inferi. I'm surprised you chose them as pawns rather than more of these masked fellows."

She shrugged, still feeling a bit star struck.

"_I didn't really plan it. They just changed on their own."_

"Power comes with a bit of spontaneity, it would seem. Why, I have a distinct memory myself of my brother transfiguring me into a goat on my eighth birthday. I believe I ate his favorite socks afterwards just to spite him." The old man bemused.

An image flashed before her as the older man smiled.

_A goat eats a sock, only to float, turning upside down as he bleats. Behind him, a young girl laughs. Ariana. Her high pitched giggles frustrates the goat, but it also delights him. He hasn't heard her laugh so loudly in a long time._

Jane blinked the image away, confused. The bemused man was more than he seemed, she realized.

In fact, this _Dumblydore_ exhibited a subtle sense of power. Whether it was his overly long beard or the reverence each person in the room seem to hold for him, Jane began to realize that this man was the one to control her future, not Sirius or Remus.

"_Will you….will the Order let me stay?" _She asked quietly, unsure of exactly what this Order was, only that they all appeared to be coming together over her arrival.

"That is the topic on the agenda tomorrow. Mr. Black did not use-conventional methods, to say the least, in securing your release from St. Mungo's. We are not above the law, although sometimes the paperwork is rather bothersome." He paused, kneeling down next to her. She could hear his knees popping as he did so, and she realized just what a feat this was for the elderly man.

"Tell me, Mrs. Weiss. What do _you_ want?"

She bit her lip, not sure she understood the question, but understanding that her answer was supposed to be important. What _did_ she want? She wanted to go home, but where was home? She wanted to remember, to be normal, but every time she got a glimpse of it her world swirled in hurt. She wanted to be happy, for her friends to be happy, but she didn't know who her friends were or how to make them happy.

She stared at the chess pieces, aware that the floating candles had returned.

"_I want to understand the game." _She whispered, staring intently at the pieces. "_So none of the other pieces fall."_

"Don't we all, my dear." The man sighed sorrowfully, standing back straight again. "Don't we all."

* * *

When the Molly woman had insisted on helping her bathe, Jane was aware of how just how well the woman stepped into her mothering role. Molly wasn't a nurse, Jane knew, and the fact that she would act like stripping a woman her own age in a stranger's bathroom was normal should have been odd. But if the woman was sheepish, she didn't show it.

In fact, Jane should have been the one that was used to it, but there was something strangely embarrassing about it all. St. Anthony's had preferred showers for cooperative patients and basins for ones that weren't. A large, ornate, claw-tooth tub that magically foamed and bubbled was a different experience altogether.

The woman seemed particularly focused on Jane's hair, or the detangling of it. This was a problem that Nurse Strout hadn't even addressed, electing for a strange cleaning spell at the time, instead.

"I remember Lily convincing you to style your hair." The portly woman mused, muttering an incantation. The pulling at Jane's scalp was gone, the hair near the roots paralyzed by the spell as the other woman continued to tug.

"Arthur would have loved that kind of thing, at the time. It was a muggle style, I believe. Birding? Feathering? Something of the sort. I thought it was pretty, but most purebloods didn't take kindly to that sort of thing, you see." She seemed to be talking to herself at this point, but Jane nodded along absent-mindedly, trying to keep herself concealed beneath the bubbles.

There was something frightening about the water. The way it turned gray at times, how easy it was to sink into it. The Molly woman didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, however, continuing her chattering.

"I was several years ahead of you, of course, so we barely knew one another. And I was much less active with the Order then, since I had the children to look after. But Arthur and I did what we could. With those innocent people dying, how could we not?" Jane wasn't sure why people would have been dying, but she didn't question it, closing her eyes and trying not to focus on the woman's touch.

"I did know you vaguely through the Potters, of course. And you tried to heal Gideon, when…." The woman trailed off, a waver in her usual cheery demeanor. "It didn't work, he was already too far gone, you see. But your own brother had just passed away, so you knew what I was-well, that's a subject best left for another time, I suppose."

Brother.

Brother?

"_Dash?" _She asked quietly.

"I-I'm afraid I don't remember his name. Just that he was still in school when it happened."

Jane looked down sullenly, suddenly feeling like her current situation wasn't as terrible as she had thought.

Thirty minutes and many pruney fingers later, the Molly woman was beaming, finally satisfied.

"Well there, I do believe we've got it. Now there, let's get you dry-" As Molly helped her out, Jane covered herself, shivering as water dripped down her skin.

That's when she caught a glimpse of the other woman in the room.

Jane turned suddenly, nearly tripping over the tub as she did. The middle-aged woman was gaunt, with jutting shoulder bones and dark circles under her eyes. Her face was mousy, with hollowed eyes and a face that was too thin for her nose. Wet, wispy hair was neatly formed against her face, in a style not unlike the younger red-headed girl Jane had spotted before.

The other woman seem startled, as well. She moved in tandem with Jane, to the point of almost being-

Oh.

_Oh. _

"Are you quite alright dear?" Behind the woman, Molly's image appeared, inquiring after her. It was a mirror. The other woman was _her._

"_Yes, I….I'm fine." _Jane lied, her gaze unwavering. But in the mirror's glaze, behind both of their reflections, something was moving in the water. She watched in horror as a man with long black hair began to crawl out of the tub behind her. He was groaning, with gray water bubbling from his mouth as he did so. His eyes rolled back, showing nothing but the whites of his eyes, yet she could feel his stare.

She jumped again, this time actually falling on her face. But when she turned to look back at the tub, the water was clear and the man was gone.

"Are you sure?"

Jane trembled, not able to put forth an answer.

Molly pursed her lips in sympathy, and flicking her stick, cast some sort of drying spell. Jane closed her eyes, marveling in the spell's warm glow.

"I don't have many things in your size, I'm afraid. You're almost thin enough to fit in my daughter's clothes, but I'm afraid you'll have to make do with my hand-me-downs, for now. Thank Merlin for belts, I don't know why someone hasn't invented a better shrinking charm for fabric, yet."

The beige sweater Molly offered her was indeed oversized, but incredibly soft, appearing to be handknit. The yellow floral skirt dwarfed her waist, noticeably made for the larger woman. But some creative handiwork on Molly's part and and few mutterings later, the belt snapped into a makeshift corset, making the poor sizing less noticeable.

After years of a standard hospital shift, it looked like the most beautiful thing Jane had ever seen.

"I'm afraid I don't have any proper shoes, soles are incredibly complicated to transfigure you understand, but I might be able to conjure up some generic slippers that would work for outside."

"_That's alright. I don't mind bare feet." _She murmured softly, thanking the woman. In fact, she preferred going without shoes, she realized, once again for reasons she didn't understand. Her feet were callused and marred by old scars, perhaps she should start wearing them more.

"Good, good. You might want to watch your step, however, the Blacks have left quite a number of dark artefacts and enchantments lying around, and my boys aren't exactly careful where they toss their things."

She thanked the woman again, who nodded cheerfully in turn, moving to gather her things.

"If you ever need any help dear, with womanly things and such, don't hesitate to ask. Us girls have to stick together, especially in the Weasley family. We're outnumbered, you see." The woman winked.

Jane paused for a moment, hesitant, before asking one more question before the other woman walked out the door.

"_Do you think….can you bird my hair? Or heather it, or…?" _She stuttered, glancing back at her strange reflection.

"Oh, I'm sorry dear. I wish I could. Never had much practice with all the boys, you see, and I've always been rubbish with hair spells. Feathering was a muggle style, I never had a chance to try it, myself."

"_That's ok. Thank you….Molly?" _She questioned, never certain whether a name was right. The woman beamed in response. Maybe Jane was getting better at this, she thought to herself.

"You're most certainly welcome, dear. Just remember, if you ever need any help-" Jane ignored the woman's words, instead focused on the dying man that had reappeared in the tub's reflection once more. He was staring at her with those unseeing eyes, sludge dripping down his chin. "-or ever need any advice, don't be afraid to come to us."

Jane swallowed, turning around away from the mirror and back towards the Molly woman. Just like before, the man's apparition was gone. The intimidating tub was now dry as a bone, its claws digging into the ceramic tile. "_Thank you, Ms. Molly, but I'm fine."_

"_I'm fine."_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight: Cat's in the Cradle**

**August 6, 1995**

If Jane hadn't felt like a child before, she certainly did now.

Her mind was used to routine. Meals at the same time, pills at the same time, people talking to her at the same time about the same sorts of things. But everything at Grimmauld Place was different, and she found her mind skipping over events as they happened.

Everyone had disappeared for a time, off to "get Harry" or something to that effect. While the adults had seemed afraid to leave her alone only a day ago, This "Harry's" coming had distracted them all, leaving her to blessed silence.

She couldn't stand the silence.

So she wandered.

At first she lingered by the clock, taking in its white noise. The engravings were charmed to move around the clock's base, she realized, likely to mirror the constellations' actual movements.

An instinct as old as the ache in her foot bid her to return to the dark little room she had slept in, to hide from the sudden bustle of people coming in and out of the mansion, but a newer, bolder part of her wanted to know what was going on. But preferably where fewer people noticed her.

Fortunately, the mansion had an abundance of rooms for her to duck in and out of, which sufficed. But if ducking in and out of rooms and hiding from the abundance of strangers didn't make her feel eleven years old all over again, the actual "Order meeting" certainly did.

Because she wasn't included in it.

In fact, the only other occupants of the house not included appeared to be the children, who were impatiently waiting outside the meeting room doors, leaning against the walls with ears pressed up against the wooden frame.

Jane could scarcely tell the teens apart. Two, she swore, looked identical, sporting odd devices that resembled magical hearing aids. They seemed quite pleased with themselves about these devices, and the brunette girl, her redheaded friend, a black-haired boy, and a younger girl all clustered around them, as if straining to hear an old muggle radio.

While the other teens huddled around the odd looking hearing aid, the younger red-headed girl seemed less concerned, sighing dreamily.

"Well _I _think it's romantic."

"Of course _you_ do, Ginny, you're a _girl._"

"I didn't say that _I_ thought it was romantic." Herminny retorted, mildly offended.

"Well, do you_?_" The Ronald-boy challenged. Herminny bit her lip thoughtfully.

"It _is _romantic_,_" she conceded, speaking louder to drown out the now guffawing boys, "but it's also _foolish._"

"That's what makes it romantic." The dreamier girl confirmed, smiling softly. "Can you imagine it? Long lost lovers, separated by a decade of tragedy, and a moonlit motorcycle escape to be together again?"

"An escape from a mental ward, Ginny." Herminny chided, sounding rather remorseful. "Who's to say she actually remembers Sirius? She didn't know who Harry or his parents were."

"Just Harry's ruddy luck. A fugitive godfather, and a godmother that's come back from the dead only to be about as fat useful as the Longbottom's."

"Ron!"

"What? It's true. She has this vacant look in her eye, Harry. The kind ghosts get, sometimes. It's really eerie."

"Even a ghost would be better to live with than the Dursleys." The darker haired boy muttered sullenly, returning to his spot by the twins, straining to hear.

"If it's so romantic, Ginny, why hasn't he mentioned her before? Not even once?"

"You wouldn't break just anyone out of St. Mungos." The girl argued, crossing her arms in a pout. "And maybe he has. We barely see him, it's Harry he talks to."

"He's never mentioned her before," Harry admitted, "but Sirius doesn't talk about himself, not really. Brings back memories of Azkaban, I think."

"Well, he talked to you earlier about it all, didn't he? What did he say?"

The darker haired boy paused, as if he wasn't sure what to tell and what not to. He relented.

"Just what you already knew from your mum. And that they think Peter's the one who hurt her."

_Peter?_

"He also said…." the boy continued in a quieter tone, a bit shaken, "... that she's the reason that he asked Dad to swap secret keepers."

_Peter._

"What? Why? Nobody told us that."

_Peter._

"Yeah. When she disappeared, Sirius thought the deatheaters were planning to use her as leverage. He didn't want to have to choose between her and us, so he asked Dad to switch the secret keepers. That way, even if-"

_Peter._

"-even if the deatheaters really had kidnapped her, and tortured her in front of him or something, he wouldn't have to live with having to choose between them if it came to it, you know? His best mate and his girl."

_Peter._

"Merlin's beard, that's…..that's really dark."

"And so _romantic_."

"Ginny!"

_PETER._

Jane's head felt like it was splitting in two, like a million pixies and mandrakes and inferni were all screaming in her ears at once. She didn't remember walking away from the doorway. She didn't remember racing down the hall, or tripping back up the stairwell.

_Rats don't have names. Rats just are. _

The lie tasted like iron in her mouth.

She steadied her breathing, trying to listen to the clock's chime. What was that trick again? Something about counting, something about counting….

She tripped again, catching herself on the railing. She hiccupped, leaning her head back against the railing as she wiped her nose. She hated this. She hated feeling like such a child, like every conversation was a time bomb waiting for her brain to explode. She hated feeling weak. She wanted to feel _powerful _again_._ Like she was in control of something, or in control of-

"Fancy seeing you here." A voice purred. It was a voice she had heard before, she was sure, but it was a voice that couldn't be real. She hoped that if she didn't look at it, it would go away, but anxiety prevailed.

When her eyes finally met his, the creature flashed a toothy grin. It wasn't human, but it was most certainly _not _the house-elf, looking instead like a strange, devilish rabbit. If rabbits had mischievous eyes and razor sharp teeth.

"Why, hello there." It said sarcastically, the floorboard creaking as it leaned forward.

She didn't respond.

She had learned better than to talk to things that other people didn't see. The gray water and walking corpses weren't real, she knew, and the floating candles likely weren't, either. But sometimes things would be less obvious, a nurse randomly turning into a brown tabby, or a patient that had died weeks prior coming into her room and staring at her. Those things were a bit more disconcerting, to think something is rightside up when it's really upside down.

But clocks helped keep her grounded. Sirius was real. Remus was real. The Molly woman was real. Dumblydore was _sometimes_ real. But this werecat/rabbit creature was most certainly _not_ real.

"Still not very talkative, are you? Are you sure you're not dead, after all?" The rabbit stood up on its hind legs, poking her again. At her lack of response, it thumped its leg in annoyance, stroking long, crooked whiskers as if it were deep in thought.

"You smell alive. Your magic is what I recognized in the first place. Much stringier than it used to be, though. Not nearly as," the rabbit paused, as if for dramatic effect, "_tasty." _

She still refused to react, instead choosing to merely glare, still curled up against the wooden railing.

"Hmm." It circled her, now, hopping in a way that was far more threatening than it should be. Jane supposed she wasn't fond of being flanked, by imaginary bunny rabbits or otherwise.

"Not just stringier. No, something else has tainted it. Your magic went from smelling all flowery to-" The creature broke off, taking several deep breaths, revealing razor sharp, buck-teeth. It furrowed its little eyebrows in confusion. "-like a nursing home? That's odd…" It began circling her again, even pulling at her ear in an effort to illicit a reaction.

"Heeellllloooo! Anyone in there? Olly olly oxenfree!" She flinched, but pulled away, avoiding the creature's glance.

"Hmm. So you _do_ hear me. Still mad, huh? It's not my fault, I thought saving Black would do the trick, I didn't say that it was _guaranteed_. And I didn't promise he wouldn't be a right git about it, either."

She cocked her head unconsciously, trying to make sense of what it was saying. Black….that was….

"_Sirius?" _She asked cautiously, staring the intimidating little creature down. He cocked his head right back at her, its little eyes calculating.

"No, the other Black you're in love with. The horrible shrew of a woman with terrible fashion taste." It joked, snorting from its button nose. "Is she even alive anymore?" Jane stared blankly, and the creature blinked, almost startled by the lack of response.

"Er….yes, Sirius Black. Lover boy. Rocker wannabe. _Prisoner of Azkaban._" The creature chortled, or was it a growl? She didn't know what Azkaban was, but it certainly sounded as if the creature were mocking her disheveled man.

She soured. It felt strange for someone else to be the object of disdain, for once. She didn't like it.

"_Don't make fun of him."_

"So the dead do tell tales! You were a bit catatonic there, lass. Lose your marbles, lately?" With a poof, a bag of marbles appeared in the werecreature's hand, which he seemed to think was hilarious. She blinked. She didn't recall ever having owned any marbles.

The rabbit finally stopped its belly laughs, instead returning the uneasy restlessness it exhibited before. It peered closer to her face, far closer than she liked it to. She gristled.

"_You shouldn't do that. The last strange creature that yelled at me was nearly crushed to death."_

"Strange creature? Yell? My dear, you underestimate me. I only yell at those who deserve it. Although playing dead for the past few decades without telling me where you were, now, that _was_ an awfully cruel thing to do." It cocked its head to the side, its eyes narrowing. "Unless of course, you have no clue what's going on at all. You...don't even recognize me, do you?"

She looked away, curling tighter into the ball she had been in before.

"_It's not real. It's not real. Just find covers. It's not real..."_

"Sheesh. Maybe the marbles thing was closer to the truth than I thought." The creature muttered, putting the bag in her hands. "Look, it's me, Harvey? The Great Hare of Caerbannog? Remember? No? Haaarrrvvveey. I was only your pet kneazle for four years. Sheesh. Look, I'll prove it to you."

The creature took a deep breath, acting as if it were sucking in fat. But instead of fat, the rabbit ears flattened, the feet shortened, and the tail lengthened with a pop. The result was still altogether frightening, but resembled more of a werecat than it did a wererabbit. "Ta da!" He stretched his paws dramatically, conjuring confetti as he took a bow.

She gave him a long look. He pouted, unimpressed by her reaction, and bounced back up.

"Well, fine. Good to know you're alive and all. You know, if you've gone mad, the least you could do is develop a sense of humor. That's what's gotten me through it." The creature winked, this time not waiting for a reaction. "Well, doll, great chat, very informative, but I've got to run. Or hop, in my case. I've got some meddling and sneaking around to do. Do yell for me if you get hit on the head again and can hold an actual conversation, will you?" He asked, grinning sharply.

She didn't respond.

He sighed.

"Fine." Harvey snapped his fingers, and with a pop, he was gone. Just in time for her to hear floorboards creak below.

"Um, Ms. Weiss? Is everything alright?"

She turned, and startled, dropped the bag that Harvey had given her. She heard the marbles clattering to the floor, falling down each step, but within a blink, they had vanished, three confused faces remaining in their stead.

The sullen boy with messy hair stood at the bottom of the stairwell, shifting his weight from side to side. Behind him, Herminny and Weasel boy approached, strange looks adorning their faces.

Jane nodded. "_Everyone keeps asking me that, but-"_ She paused, savoring the distant sound of the pendulum's swing, "_I'm fine. Really. I've just lost some marbles."_

The weasel boy snorted at this, once again elbowed by Herminny. Jane was beginning to think that this was a common routine for the pair. The other boy was concerned, however, wearing an expression not unlike Remus's. He looked older than he was, Jane thought, almost resigned. A trait he likely shared in common with the older man.

She was supposed to have taken care of this boy, she realized. She didn't know why, or really who he even was to her, other than a son of imaginary friends. But he was someone she had been supposed to look after, when all she could do is conjure milkshakes and gaudy hats.

And now he was here, looking after her, a stranger.

"_I'm sorry I'm just a ghost."_ She blurted, suddenly finding her hands far more interesting than the teens. "_I want to be more than that. But my brain keeps hiccupping, and it all gets mixed up, sometimes."_

The ginger blanched, the three teens suddenly looking a bit sheepish.

"Look, err, we're sorry. We didn't mean it like that." The dark haired boy began.

"Yeah." Weasel boy added. "I didn't know you were listenin', an all, or I wouldn't have-ow! Hermione! What now?! I was saying I was sorry!" He rubbed his ribs, glaring at the fluffy haired girl.

Jane swallowed, shaking her head. She offered an unsteady smile.

"_Don't be sorry. I'm not Cathy, or at least, I'm not the Cathy everyone knows. I'm just Jane, now."_

And it was true. Ever since Weasel-man and Dorie had tripped into her life, every new stranger seemed to carry a bittersweet smile on their lips and pity in their eyes. Each stranger seemed to be someone else that she was supposed to know, someone that she _had_ known. Back when she was more than just Jane. Back when she was _Cathy_.

While still confused, the trio seemed relieved. The darker hair boy stepped up the stairwell, extending his hand in an offer to help her up.

"Well, I'm just Harry, then. Harry Potter."

"Nice to meet you, Harry Potter." She smiled wistfully, taking it.

"It's rather nice, actually. To have someone not know who I am." The boy admitted, using his free hand to brush his bangs back. A distinctive scar was hidden behind them.

"_Then you met the right person. Because I still might not know who you are tomorrow."_ She joked, steadying herself on the railing.

But he deserved more than that. Everyone had been making a big deal about this boy, as if he was someone she was supposed to have known in her past life. She looked at him, _really _looked at him, and forced her mind to reach as far back as she could into that never-ending fog. Somewhere between oily shadows, a flicker of deja vu came over her.

She was reminded of Neville and his parents. The man with long ears. She had connected the two then, and this boy was connected to someone, as well. Someone she cared for, but couldn't quite place.

It wasn't the sullen boy's looks that struck her as familiar, she realized, but his mannerisms. The way he cocked his head and bit his lip when he was thinking, the way he looked after people. The goodness in his eyes.

"_You look like her."_ She whispered, blinking away the tears that threatened to rise. The boy cocked his head in that same exact manner, some small thought dawning on him.

"Who?" He inquired, emerald eyes piercing through the shadows. The grandfather clock chimed overhead, and he asked again, hopeful this time. "Who do I look like?"

"_I don't know." _She answered truthfully. "_But I should. I should."_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine: Goodbye Yellow Brick Road**

**August 12, 1995**

"Miss Weiss? Do you understand the question?" A voice had been droning on for some time now, and she had an inkling that it was trying to call her out of her daze. She ignored it. Her daze was a sort of pleasant sleep, where her mind could wander as much as it pleased. "Cat? Please talk to us. Just...just say _something_." A different voice was pleading with her now, and she sighed, blinking her way through the fog.

Sirius's face met her at the end of it.

She was briefly reminded of her wish for all rabbits, grims, glass, and dogs to disappear. She liked Sirius, but she wanted to go back to when he was just a shadow and the world around her just oily mirages. Those mirages had taken form, however, and as her eyes focused beyond the disheveled man, she found a sea of eyes looking back at her.

"_Can….can you repeat that?" _She asked weakly, finding herself lost in all of those eyes. How had she gotten here? Who were these people? There were at least a dozen of them…

Dumblydore spoke this time, his own pair of eyes ever calculating. "Were you unhappy at St. Mungo's?"

Unhappy? She didn't have any distinct grudge against the place, if anything, it had been better than St. Anthony's. But it was different, and she wasn't sure she liked different.

"_Ms. Spricket was nice."_ She mused, furrowing her eyebrows together in concentration. "_But she broke into my head._"

"Spricket? Do you mean Mrs. Strout?" The older man asked, gently. She shrugged, uncertain herself.

"Mrs. Strout was your mind healer. She was trying to help you." he reminded her. But she didn't need reminding.

"_Spracket said too much could break my head. But the woman with clicking heels made her do it anyway…."_ Jane paused, remembering the freedom of her mind finally feeling empty, feeling powerful. "... _so I broke _her_, instead."_

This answer didn't seem to be the right one, the audience shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

"You hurt Mrs. Hopkirk on purpose?" He probed further, alarmed. Jane swallowed hard, wrapping her arms around herself.

"_I told her to get out, and she wouldn't listen. It hurt, I just wanted it to stop hurting."_

"When you flicker the lights, or break windows. Is that on purpose, too? Or does it just happen?" Dumblydore asked, an odd look in his eye. He wasn't acting like he was seeing her, but someone else entirely.

"_It does it on its own." _She insisted, wrapping her arms tighter. That seemed to satisfy the older man, who began to ignore her, in turn, addressing the other members, instead. He seemed to think that she would revert back to the shadows, like some creature that had been temporarily summoned from another realm. But she stayed. She listened.

They were discussing what was best for her. They were discussing whether she could _stay_.

Dumblydore seemed to be the sense of reason, with a calm, steady voice that seemed to soothe the other Order members his way. He said that Cathy needed calm. She needed to be kept out of danger, out of the ministry's line of sight, and the best way to do that would be to resolve the investigation quickly. The best way to do that would be to return her to St. Mungos.

Sirius protested this, barking one argument after another. But his reasoning was erratic, and Dumblydore's was calm. Dumblydore's made sense.

The Order knew what had happened to her. The clues had been spelled it out, Cathy's own actions had spelled it out. And as mysterious and distressing as things might have appeared, there was little more they could do. They needed to focus on her recovery, on catching Peter, helping Harry, and giving her the help she needed. And the best place to do that was in a hospital.

But Dumblydore was wrong.

"_You're wrong."_ She told him so.

The eyes swiveled back to her, making her feel rather self-aware.

"About what, my dear?"

"_About what I need." _She said matter-of-factly, wincing. She reminded herself of the fluffy haired girl. She half expected Dumblydore and the other strangers to continue talking, to ignore her. That's what the nurses did. But these people didn't. They knew her as Cathy. A shell of Cathy, but Cathy, nonetheless. And she intended to use that to her advantage.

"_Maybe….maybe I don't need calm. Maybe I _need_ to hurt_. _To be upset." _She took a shuddering breath, once again expecting the older man to shut her down. Instead, he waited patiently, but his eyes were seeing through her like she was a ghost.

And maybe she was a ghost. Maybe she was just Jane, now. But she could be something more again.

"_Maybe I'm not right in the head either, or shouldn't make decisions for myself. But ever since Weasel-man found me, ever since they broke my head and Sirius brought me here, I've _remembered_ more. I remember Sirius and Remus's names. I still remember Katie. And what house-elves are. And that magic exists. Maybe I won't ever be completely be better, maybe I'll still get mixed up. But I was happy at St. Anthony's, but I was just like the Long-bottomed man and woman there. Forgetting things from day to day, never knowing anything new. Not getting better. And I….I want to get better."_

She turned to the older man, imploringly. If anyone could convince the onlookers, it was him, she knew.

"_I'm not Cathy anymore, but I'm not Ariana, either." _

She wasn't sure what had compelled her to say that. She wasn't even sure why the young, goat floating girl had popped into her head in the first place, or who she was to Dumblydore. But the words had a visible effect on him. He stumbled back, eyes widening.

"_I'm just Jane." _She insisted, the oily shadows threatening to rise up again. "_I'm just Jane."_

She let them overtake her.

* * *

She didn't recall what had happened after that, but her brief moment of clarity must have done the trick, because she was allowed to stay. It wouldn't be an easy feat, Dumblydore later said, she would need a wizarding lawyer and a cover story. But the Order would come up with something, and once they had, she would officially meet with aurors in an attempt to placate the matter. It would be best to do it during Harry's disciplinary hearing, they decided, when the press would be too busy to notice.

The other members went their separate ways, occasionally making an offhand comment to her, but she ignored them. She didn't like the eyes watching her. The only pair of eyes who made decisions in that room were Dumblydore's, and he had already been convinced. So the other members left, leaving two older men that Jane didn't know, the Weasels, Harry, Herminny, Sirius, and Remus alone in the dark and grim house.

The Molly woman set forth on attacking it. The jovial woman didn't _do_ grim, it seemed. A broom in one hand, a magical bucket in another, she cleaned floors that didn't want to be cleaned and dispelled cobwebs that had been more than happy to remain where they were. The teens helped her.

"Aren't there child labor laws against this?" Perhaps _help_ wasn't the right word.

"Yeah, I mean, this is a real danger to our health. We could get a doffer cough, goin' on like this." The second voice mirrored the first. The twins, Jane realized, peeking around the corner. She did a lot of peeking. She felt more and more like the creepy house-elf with each passing day.

"Or we could just use _magic._ Mum, it's such a marv-"

"Marvelous concept! By George, why didn't I think of it sooner?"

"By Fred, I do believe you've outdone yourself. Hear that, Mum? Magic!"

The Molly woman wasn't amused. While she did seem to have some spells out and about, brooms working on their own, dishes washing themselves, she didn't shy away from physical labor, and expected no less of the children.

The group had been working on their own for some time before Jane snapped out of whatever daze she had been trapped in. After the teenagers had fought a particularly bad battle with doxies (some sort of magical creature that reminded her of pixies), Jane offered to help, almost immediately regretting doing so. What job could she expect Molly to give a person who could barely even remember names?

Molly didn't seem phased, however, setting Jane on the much simpler task of dusting the furniture.

Dusting furniture was rather boring in comparison to doxie wars, Jane discovered, but it allowed her to tiptoe from room to room without feeling useless or creepy. Conversations faded in and out, as they often did when she was around. The good thing about being a ghost, she mused, was just how easy it was for her to walk about unnoticed.

That's how she came across the sullen boy, _Harry, _she reminded herself, and Sirius, standing in front of a tapestry.

It was a wretched thing, and while it was obvious that it had once been an elegant centerpiece, it now bore tears and burn marks. Many of the burns seemed deliberately made. Muggles just cut people they didn't like out of photos, they didn't ruin perfectly good decor.

Muggles? What were those? Regular people? What had made her think of such a silly word? Regulars was more appropriate. Regulars. Reggles? She fought a giggle. But the pair weren't giggling. In fact, the sullen boy looked practically cheerful in comparison to Sirius, who was clearly agitated by the tapestry. Jane wasn't sure why, at first, it wasn't _that_ ugly, but it was the faces on the tapestry that seemed to bother him the most, she realized.

"But ... why did you...?"

"Leave?" Sirius smiled bitterly and ran his fingers through long, unkempt hair. "Because I hated the whole lot of them: my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal ... my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them ... that's him."

Sirius jabbed a finger at the very bottom of the tree.

Jane stood on her toes, straining to see exactly who Sirius was pointing at. Her heart stilled. The boy had the same dark hair and haughty look that Sirius had when he was younger, though he was smaller, slighter, and less handsome than his brother_._ But unlike every other familiar face lately, Jane remembered exactly how she knew him.

He was the man from the bathroom mirror. The man who had been drowning in the claw-toothed tub. The name on the tapestry read '_Regulus Black'. _

"He was younger than me," Sirius continued, "and a much better son, as I was constantly reminded."

"But he died," said Harry.

"Yeah," said Sirius. "Stupid idiot ... he joined the Death Eaters."

_Death eaters. Inferi. Eating shadows and ghouls wherever they went, hissing in the air. Snakes crawling on their skin._

"You're kidding!"

"Come on, Harry, haven't you seen enough of this house to tell what kind of wizards my family were?"

"Was he killed by an Auror?" Harry asked tentatively.

_You have to promise me, Weiss, if I don't make it out of here-_

_Don't talk like that._

"Oh, no," said Sirius. "No, he was murdered by Voldemort. Or on Voldemort's orders, more likely; I doubt Regulus was ever important enough to be killed by Voldemort in person. From what I found out after he died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out. Well, you don't just hand in your resignation to Voldemort. It's a lifetime of service or death.'

_Promise me…_

_Promise me…_

_Promise me!_

"Lunch!" Molly-woman's voice rang, breaking Jane's daze and causing Sirius and Harry to turn. The two startled, not having been aware of her presence. Jane didn't even bother to act embarrassed, her eyes still entirely focused on the boy from the tapestry.

Her brain was wanting to hiccup, she knew, and she wasn't sure if she should let it.

"Christ, Cathy, warn a mate, would ya?" Sirius laughed, offering an uneasy smile. His smile wavered, however, as he took a closer look at her. "Are you alright there, love?"

She wouldn't let it. Not now. Not in front of them, especially not in front of the boy. She swallowed, blinking the shadows away and clearing her throat in an attempt to ward off the voices.

"_The Molly woman has food, if you want some." _She murmured softly. That simple statement seemed to placate the older man, whose eyes glittered at the thought of something to eat. But Harry was a bit more observant, his eyebrows drawn together as he continued to watch her. When his gaze finally left hers, they fluttered down the hall, drawn to the soft sound of dragging feet.

Jane turned to find the tiny angry man standing at the end of the hallway, watching her with hatred in his eyes. He held some broken silverware protectively in his hand, no doubt trying to recover some of what the group had been throwing out throughout the day. His glare was accusing, and she found herself feeling guilty for reasons she didn't understand.

_I'm not Ariana. _She told herself, desperately. _I'm not. _

But as the trio walked away, following smells of chicken and thyme, the tiny angry man's eyes never left hers, his glare boring into the back of her skull.

_Promise me, Weiss…_

_I promise._

* * *

The Molly woman was flabbergasted.

Jane found herself wishing that she had stayed in bed or by the tapestry. One plate after another was shoved in her direction, yet all she could do was stare.

It wasn't the woman's fault that the food looked disgusting. Most food looked disgusting to her, a fact that had always distressed the nurses. Jane thought she had gotten away from the attention to that fact, but her reaction to lunch had somehow reminded everyone of this again.

"Cathy, dear, you _must _be hungry. When is the last time you ate?"

She didn't know, so she didn't respond, smiling awkwardly as the brood of ginger children began to stare, instead. They were whispering, joking amongst themselves. Apparently, few people could withstand the lure of Molly's meals. Fewer could withstand the woman's wrath. And Jane was threatening to disturb both.

"She never did like eating." Sirius grumbled, looking suddenly abashed. Jane blinked at this new piece of information. She had built an image of her previous self as having been perfect, the knowledge that she had always been such a picky eater was news to her.

"Have you eaten _at all_ since you've gotten here, dear?"

Once again, Jane found herself without an answer. She couldn't _remember _eating, but there were considerable gaps in her memory. She shrugged, doing her best to crawl into the back of her chair.

"You used to like chocolate milk, would you like me to conjure some?" Remus offered. Before she could accept or deny it, a carton appeared before her, wobbling comically on top of the other dishes. She grimaced as the brown sludge sloshed back at her.

The teens were doing more than just giggling, now watching in amused wonder. The Ronald-boy in particular was taken back. Harry, however, seemed relieved that the attention was not on him, as four or five plates had been shoved his way, as well. He was considerably thinner than the rest of the brood, giving Jane the impression that he didn't ordinarily live with the Molly woman's cooking, either.

"Eat something, love, please. I've had nutritional potions before, and let me tell you, Molly's cooking is absolute ambrosia in comparison."

Potions? Ah. The nasty little drinks that had replaced the nasty little pills. She had been able to avoid them since arriving here, but it looked like that might not remain the case. Jane eyed the brown sludge, and the chicken stew that accompanied it. They hardly looked more appetizing.

Instead, she tried to draw the attention away from the full plates in front of her, looking towards Sirius, instead.

"_I never liked eating?"_

"Er, that's probably the wrong way to say it. You _liked_ eating, you just never ate. Wanted to be a muggle dancer, the kind that stand on their toes. Rinas? Tallatina's? The one with the fluffy skirts."

"A ballerina?" The red-headed girl asked excitedly, her eyes falling back into a dreamy gaze. It was a dream Jane didn't recall, although she did seem rather fond of standing on her toes, she mused.

"That's the one. It was pretty to watch you have a go at it, but it bloodied up your feet. At least you had healing charms, I don't know muggles manage it."

"They don't." Herminny added helpfully. "Ballerina's toes often end up disfigured, although proper care can often minimize the long term damage."

"Wha' does muggle danthing have to do wi' foo'?" The Ronald-boy asked, talking through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. The gravy dish poured itself without any assistance, refilling what the boy had just eaten.

"Ballerina's are pressured to be thin." Herminny informed him, raising an eyebrow at his sloppiness. "It's part of the artform. Many dancers develop eating disorders because of it."

"_Did I have one? An eating disorder?" _Jane asked mildly, looking back at Sirius. Remus shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his throat.

"Er, back then, eating disorders weren't really well known. And it wasn't like you were a professional dancer, or anything, it was just a hobby." Sirius defended, not giving a proper answer.

"But it may be why you still don't like to eat." Remus offered, nodding towards her stew. "You should still try to have something. You wouldn't want to hurt Molly's feelings, and the better you look, the more likely the ministry will let you stay."

Shite. He was right. The Molly-woman was nice, and genuinely distressed by Jane's reservations. Jane relented, picking up the bowl of stew and taking a sip.

Eughh…

It tasted like it looked, but it made the older woman happy, and seemed to ease everyone's attentions away. The sullen boy brushed his hand through his hair, his nose crinkled as if he were the one unhappy with the taste.

"I had nearly forgotten about the ministry. Reckon they've nearly forgotten about me?" Harry asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Not as long as you've got that scar." The Ronald-boy quipped, taking another slurp of gravy.

"Just tell the truth, even the ministry can't fault you for self-defense." Remus said reasonably.

"If the truth mattered to them, Sirius would be a free man and the papers would stop bad mouthing Ms. Jane." Harry sulked, playing with his food.

"Ms. Jane?" Sirius asked, a bit confused. Harry turned red, casting a quick glance her way.

"Err, Ms. Cathy, I mean." Harry corrected. "It just stinks. They say all those things about me, and twist anything I say to what they mean it to say. But she hasn't even done anything." The boy pouted, strangely defensive of the woman he had just met.

_Is she, though? Innocent? She is now, but was she back then?_

Jane's stomach soured, recalling Bumbleton's glare. The drowning man's stare. Maybe her past self hadn't been so perfect, after all.

"You haven't done anything either, Harry." Hermione offered amicably. "And they can't prove anything against either of you, besides."

"They don't always have to prove anything to get their way." Sirius snarked, grabbing a roll. He seemed to have personal experience with this matter. Harvey's goading trickled in the back of Jane's mind, and she frowned.

"_What…...what was Azkaban?" _She asked quietly, surprised that she was able to mimic Harvey's pronunciation on the matter. Her pride was short lived, as Sirius dropped the roll he had been trying to butter. In fact, the entire table had tensed.

"I, uh-" Sirius sputtered, the shadows under his eyes seeming to grow darker. "Didn't know you had heard about that, love."

"_The rabbit mentioned it."_ She said, wincing even as she said it.

"The -rabbit?" Sirius was staring at her. They all were. If it were possible to sink lower in her chair, she would have. She shook her head furiously, the candles burning brighter. "_I'm sorry."_ She corrected, glancing around nervously. "_I shouldn't have said anything."_

Their confused silence confirmed as such. She found her hands beginning to shake along with her head, her stomach revolting at the sudden disturbance. The group watched her, and Jane suddenly felt as if those dozens of eyes were watching her all over again.

"_I'm sorry, forget I said it. I knew he wasn't real-"_

"Cathy-"

"_Just don't send me back to solitary, please, I won't talk about him again, I promise-"_

"Do you want to know what it is, or not?" He interrupted, seeming shaken. She paused, glancing fearfully around the table. Even the Weasel-boy had stopped what he was doing, paused mid-slurp. "It's a prison." He growled softly, still disturbed. "Like 'solitary'. Only I stayed there for twelve years."

She paused, gaping.

Twelve years straight…..of nothing but solitary?

The thought terrified her. But it also made sense. It explained why the man in front of her was nothing like that haughty, suave teenager she vaguely remembered. Solitary wasn't just lonely, it was torture, at times. To be trapped for that long, in a room with blood and snakes and rats and needles and men in masks and-

"_I'm sorry." _She whispered, meaning every word.

"It's not your fault." Sirius growled, grabbing the dropped roll once more. "It's _Wormtail's_".

She didn't know what that meant, but she knew better than to ask, remaining silent. In fact, the rest of the lunch was rather quiet, each person stuck in their own thoughts with their own problems.

Jane didn't take another bite.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Woah. This has reached over a hundred follows. I'm honored! Please be sure to leave reviews or comments, anything you think I can do better, etc. We'll have less vague filler and more plot motion in our next chapter, so stay tuned! Also, I've made a (probably foolish) decision to post this concurrently with my other new story, _Those who Choose, _so please check it out_. _I have 40k written in advance for All the King's Horses and 30k written for TwC, so I have several weeks of posting before that decision starts to bite me.

Once again, thank you!


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten: Fire and Water**

**August 12, 1995**

While Harry had been shooed off to the dreaded 'disciplinary meeting', Jane found herself arriving to her own.

"Wotcher, Cathy!" A voice rang out. Jane turned to see an unfamiliar looking woman with bright green hair. The woman stumbled, and suddenly didn't seem so unfamiliar at all.

"_Hello, Dorie."_ She murmured, rather proud of herself for recalling this fact. The shapeshifter seemed a bit more cheery than their previous encounters. Or perhaps more nervous, Jane thought, noticing the woman's sheepish smile. But the smile wasn't directed towards Jane, she realized, but Remus.

There was a story she was supposed to remember, to tell the aurors. Sirius had offered her a ride on his pretty bike, but she had been afraid of heights, so Sirius had dropped her off in Remus's back garden instead, and told her to knock. When she had gone to knock on Remus's door, he was gone. She had to remember this story, Dumblydore had said, because if she didn't, Remus and Sirius could get in trouble. Particularly Remus.

Remus, having found his old friend dropped haphazardly in his back-garden, let her stay at his house for the night, and had set up a meeting with the aurors in the morning when she had calmed down. If anything, however, Remus was the one that seemed nervous, returning a rather shaky smile to the two aurors waiting for them in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement office.

The other auror accompanying Dory had been one of the many faces peering at her at Grimmauld Place, she realized. He dwarfed his partner, and tall and broad shouldered, he carried the air of an officer. His eyes were stern, but not uncaring. Jane looked between Remus and the pair. They all knew each other, they were all in on this "story", so why were they all so nervous?

"Come inside." The dark complected man motioned, his eyes shifting around the exterior of the building. "You should have taken the floo." He chided.

"We weren't followed. Cathy, uh-let's just say she wasn't fond of the idea." That was an understatement. When he had showed her how the "floo" worked, showed her the soot and the green flash, nothing short of terror had stuck her to her spot. He tried to prove to her that the fire wasn't hot, that it was just some sort of magic trick, but she wouldn't have it.

"I imagine she wouldn't be fond of a media circus, either. Come on, then." He was certainly a no-nonsense sort of fellow, Jane thought, following the trio in silence. Dory finally turned her attention elsewhere, casting an apologetic smile Cathy's way.

Inside, revolving glass doorways revealed a cluttered open area that was divided into cubicles. The buzz of talking and laughter came to a halt as they entered, aurors stopping what they were doing to turn and stare. They weren't so different than the Weasel children, Jane thought. The staff members turned and whispered to one another at the sight of them.

"Her case really_ is_ famous, now." Remus gulped, walking so fast that Jane struggled to keep up with him. The broad-shouldered wizard 'mmm'hmm.'d in agreement, leading the pair down a hallway and away from peering eyes.

"She only came back from the dead, was imprisoned for years in a muggle institution, a best friend to the Potters, an ex-girlfriend of an escaped Azkaban escapee, and was kidnapped from St. Mungo's memory ward with a flying motorcycle. Nothing too unusual." Dory teased, elbowing Jane, who blinked in response.

"She's Harry's godmother, of course she's unusual." Remus quipped, offering the shapeshifter an easy smile. The darker officer didn't seem keen on joking, however, instead continuing to usher them down the uncomfortably bright hallway.

"The ministry has been informed of your arrival, but most of them are tied up with Potter's hearing. We should have until this afternoon before Hopkirk and her lot show up. I do need to inform you, anything and everything that is said in the investigation room will be recorded by Wheesy."

_Wheesy? _Jane pondered, eyes scrunched in confusion. The investigation room door swiveled open, revealing a tiny shriveled _thing_ in its wake, blue feather in hand. It was the tiny angry man. Except….it wasn't.

"The department's resident house elf. She's writing with a Jobberknoll quill; she can only write the truth as she knows it. She'll write everything we say, and we'll all sign at the end." The tiny creature nodded agreeably, a sharp contrast to the little man that yelled at Jane in her sleep. Although Jane thought that if the little creature really could be trusted, the other aurors would at least offer the wretched elf some clothes.

"That's new." Remus remarked, rubbing the back of his head. "Then again, the last time I've been here was when Sirius…." he trailed off, uncertain of what he should say.

"Yes, Black does always seem to drag you through his messes, doesn't he? I approved it personally through Scringemour a few months back. They wouldn't allow for muggle cameras, and quick-quote quills can be charmed against their user, you see." The man muttered. He glanced at the other man apologetically.

"I'm afraid, Remus, that we _will _have to interview you two separately. Procedure, you understand." The larger man glanced at Wheesy, who was already eagerly jotting their conversation down, before turning back to Remus. The two men looked one another in the eye, silently communicating something left unsaid. Remus cleared his throat.

"I'm afraid I must insist on being present when Cathy is interviewed. In lack of better company, I've become a sort of guardian, you see. I feel responsible for her. She's not….she's not quite, uh….."

"I'm afraid we have two options, Lupin. Either Ms. Weiss is mentally sound and can speak for herself, or she's mentally unsound and will need to be escorted back to St. Mungos after we're done here." Shacklebolt muttered, looking rather resigned.

Nobody in the room looked happy about it, except perhaps Wheesy, who seemed happy about everything. Those weren't "Shacklebolt's" words, Jane realized, but someone else's.

"Of course. Shall I go first, or Cathy?"

"Cathy would be best, I think. We have some tea in the breakroom, and there are some spare chairs in the room on the _left._" He said, making sure to put emphasis on the direction. Remus glanced behind him, spotting a door that seemed adjacent to the interview room. His eyes widened, and he nodded.

"Of course. Thank you, Shacklebolt."

"Pleasure." The other wizard responded cooly, turning back to Jane. "Take a seat, please, madam." She did so, anxiety blooming in her chest.

The door swung shut, her sight of Remus along with it. She didn't even get so much as a goodbye before she was left alone with the two aurors.

"Would you like some tea? Or a bit of a snack?" Dory offered amiably. Jane shook her head, eyeing the shut door.

"Have you had anything to eat since your midnight ride?" Shacklebolt asked evenly, leaning back in his chair. Jane nodded.

"_Some soup."_ She whispered, looking back at the door.

"Good. _Remus_ is a thoughtful man." Tonks said, her smile seeming a bit more forced. Jane blinked, not wanting to disagree, and the female auror leaned forward.

"I understand that all of this must seem terribly confusing. But you seem to be doing rather well compared to when you were in the hospital, yeah? We weren't even able to interview you then. Do you feel like you improved at St. Mungos?"

"_I…..I don't know."_

"Well, you certainly look better. I mean, it's perfectly safe to assume our missing persons case is over now, but Nurse Strout was incredibly worried about you. Did Black hurt you, in any way?"

Dorie knew perfectly well that he hadn't. Jane blinked, looking down at herself as if to make sure, and shook her head.

"You're shaking your head no," Shacklebolt began, eyeing Wheesy in the corner, before leaning back in his chair. "But did he coerce you in any way? Did he force you to come along?"

"_No."_ She said, audibly this time, trying to recall the story they had rehearsed. _"He was nice and had a shiny bike. It wasn't the same bike he used to have...but it _was _shiny_._"_

"So you chose to come along, is that right?"

"_I-yes, I think so."_

"You think so?"

"_I-yes, I'm quite certain of it. I remembered him, that's why I went with him. I don't remember many people anymore. Never for very long."_

"Can you tell us a bit more about that? Tonks has written up a rather detailed report about her first encounter with you at the muggle hospital, but there is some confusion on exactly what and how much you _can_ remember."

She blinked at them, not sure what they were getting at. She rocked in her chair, wishing the candles away. Wishing the rats gnawing at the back of her head away.

"_Sometimes I remember things, and sometimes I forget things. And sometimes what I remember and what I've forgotten are muddled together." _

"From what we discussed in the hallway, you remember Ms. Tonks, here, and you remember coming to St. Mungos. You also remember going with Sirius Black. But you don't know how you know him, how you came to be living in the muggle world for the past decade, or exactly what led you to winding up in Remus's backyard, is that right?" She blinked, puzzling at the intensity behind Shacklebolt's words. She gave a little nod and he leaned back in his chair, once again eyeing the house elf in the corner. It was almost as if he were telling the story for her. For some sort of record? Wheesy _was_ writing awfully fast.

"You understand our conundrum, don't you? It almost seems that you're only remembering what's convenient for you. You don't have to protect him, you know."

She cocked her head to the side, suddenly very confused.

"_Protect who?" _

Shacklebolt sighed at this, and digging out his stick, chose to ignore giving her a proper answer. He scowled as if he were dealing with a fool, making Jane sink further into her chair. He swished the wooden stick, and with a pop, some photos floated above them. He grabbed one out of the air, sliding it across the table and into her view.

"Do you remember who this man is?"

She blinked, staring at a young boy with a crooked smile. The picture was more like a film, the boy waving at the camera enthusiastically with so much energy he could practically burst. She shook her head.

"_I….I don't think so. He….he looks like a nurse I had….but I don't know his name, either…"_

"That's fine, madam. We're just trying to establish a baseline for your disability."

Disability? That was a strange way of phrasing it. The auror seemed nonplussed, and vanishing the first photo, pulled another one out of the air.

"And what about this one?" The picture slid forward, revealing what appeared to be a younger version of herself in front of a sweets shop, standing in a group of girls. In the middle, a dark haired girl waved a candied necklace in the air proudly, a ginger haired girl with emerald green eyes laughing contagiously at her side. Even the younger version of Jane seemed pleased, hugging the dark haired girl as they yelled to the sky. They were celebrating something. They were….happy.

"_I…..that's me, I think. And the...the red headed girl, I've seen her on Remus's chess board before. He's told me about her, but I don't remember her name."_

"On his chessboard?" Shacklebolt repeated, somewhat confused. She nodded hurriedly, biting her lip in agitation.

"_I don't understand these questions. What do they have to do with anything?"_

"Just a few more. How about this one?"

The photos of the girls vanished, replaced by a third one. Taken at night, it appeared to be a photo of the sky. But in the distance, a flying motorcycle could be seen, two shadowy figures contrasted against the moonlight. She smiled softly.

"_That's Sirius." _She pointed, finally relieved to have recognized something. Shacklebolt offered a tight smile.

"What do you feel about Black? Why did he let you go?"

"_I...I don't know what to feel about him. I think…. " _She paused, watching Dorie's eyebrows wriggle pointedly. Jane blinked, trying to decipher what the other woman was trying to tell her.

Right! She was supposed to keep to a story...

"_We were up really high, and I got really scared. So he let me go. He was just trying to help me, he thought the nurses at St. Mumbo Jumbo's were hurting me." _Dory's lip twinged in amusement at something, but Shacklebolt pressed on, leaning forward in his chair.

"And why would the healers hurt you?"

"_They broke into my head."_ She murmured quietly, her hands beginning to shake and her mouth suddenly dry. She looked around anxiously, eyeing the door. _"It hurt, and they wouldn't stop, and I hurt the woman with the clicking heels trying to get them to stop."_

"But you _did _choose to go with him? He didn't force you?" The older auror confirmed, his eyes searching for an answer he already knew. She nodded.

"_Yes, he was just trying to help me."_

"Ms. Weiss, are you aware that Sirius Black is a known death eater?" She stilled at the word, glancing back and forth between the two aurors for confirmation of some kind. But they just kept staring at her expectantly.

Death eater?

She began rocking in her chair, placing her hands over her ears and shaking her head. They thought Sirius was a death eater? He wasn't. He couldn't be. When he said he had been in a prison….

"Ms. Weiss, are you ok?

No. She wasn't ok. She hadn't been ok for a very long time. She could feel the hiccups wanting to emerge, see raven feathers that couldn't possibly be real floating alongside the photographs. The two aurors didn't even seem fazed by them. This couldn't be real. None of this could be real.

"I would like to go home now, please." She pleaded, feeling something wet drip down her cheeks. She started humming to herself, trying to distract herself from the buzzing in her ears. Dory leaned forward and touched Jane's hand, startling her.

"You're doing very well, Cathy. We're almost done."

"_It wasn't him. It wasn't Sirius, it wasn't Remus, they didn't-"_

"And that's why we're asking these incredibly difficult questions." Dory reassured her, holding onto her hand tighter. "Something bad happened to you many years ago, Cathy. And Black taking you from St. Mungos, even if you were a willing participant, has thrown a wrench into things. He might have been involved and you don't even remember it. But we're hoping to put together what _did_ happen to you with what you _do_ remember."

Dory let go of Jane's hand, electing to pull several photos down. The shapeshifter held it close, however, not revealing its contents as quickly as her counterpart had.

"From the notes on your file, it seems your apartment's wards were set off sometime in late August of 1981. Black discovered your apartment in disarray and called the authorities. At the time, Black claimed he believed it was a death eater attack meant as a message for him-for you to be used as blackmail. However, the aurors investigating were less hopeful for your survival…" the shapeshifter trailed off, smiling sadly. She looked down at the photos. "...and when Black was later convicted, it was assumed you were just another one of his victims."

Victims? Sirius had victims? None of this was making any sense...

"Now, there is quite a lot of blood in these photos. And I'm afraid that given your-well-I'm afraid that you may have some trouble looking at them. If you feel your magic spike in any way, or you need a break, please let us know. Alright?"

Jane nodded, uncertain. _"Yeah." _She whispered, still unsettled. _"Ok."_

The pictures slid forward.

Dull terror bloomed her chest.

The photos were terribly frightening. She didn't understand what it was, or _why_ it was, and nothing about the place in the photos looked familiar at all. A younger Shacklebolt walked through a crime scene, each photo focusing on a different piece. Holes in the wall. Blood soaked into the orange shag carpet. Wallpaper torn and peeling from one dark spell or another. Papers scattered everywhere, covered in soot. Stones with strange emblems littered the floor.

"Do you remember this?" Dory asked softly, pushing even more photos in front of her. Books upon books on ancient runes and magic theory. Handwritten symbols written in the margins.

She swallowed, shaking her head slowly.

"_What...what does it mean?" _She asked, noticing the ever increasing pattern. In fact, it almost seemed like the photographer was more preoccupied with the books and papers than they were the rest of the crime scene. Shacklebolt's eyes cut to hers, and she had an inkling that he knew why. He leaned forward, his elbows pressing against the table.

"We were hoping _you_ could tell us." He murmured, his eyes sharpening. "Witnesses said that you left your job as a healer in the middle of a war to work on this research, that you were _obsessed_ over it. Most of your research appears to involve dark magic." He said, uttering the last two words with distaste.

"I….I…" She began peering uneasily over the photographs. She felt as if the soot in the photos was occupying her lungs, weighing them down and leaving her gasping for air-

Dory's hand was holding hers, again. Jane swallowed, forcing herself to slow her breathing._ "I don't know."_ She finished lamely, pulling her hand away. _"I don't know what they're for. I don't remember anything about researching this...whatever this is." _She closed her eyes, struggling to keep herself calm. She envisioned that she was talking at the top of a tall tower, pouring her heart out to someone who could care less.

"_I remember St. Anthony's and being found by Dorie and Weasel-man. I don't remember anything before that, I never even remember my nurses' names. I remember a drowning man, a boy that's supposed to be my brother, hiding under the covers, and people breaking into my head to try to make me get better. And I remember Sirius coming to save me. That's it. That's all know, and I probably won't even know that tomorrow. I don't know what to tell you, to tell Dumblydore, to tell the woman with the clicking heels, and I don't know how to play this funny little game and tell the story right because I never remember how these games even work. I just want to go home._" She insisted in a rush, feeling her lips curl into an unpleasant pout.

Instead of giving her a proper answer, without a word, Dorie pushed one more photo into her line of sight.

It was the woman with the clicking heels, only now her hair was as unkempt as it was wispy, the hallows of her cheeks apparent as she lay in a hospital bed. Bones jutted out from pale skin, making the woman appear as if she were at death's door. And her expression was even more indignant than it had been before.

"Do you know who this woman is?"

"_The woman with the clicking heels."_ Jane answered uncertainly, biting her lip. Shacklebolt nodded.

"Yes, her name is Mafalda Hopkirk. This is what she looked like last week, after your, er, _incident _with the pensieve. Mr. Lupin came forward and told the nurses that you had struggled with a family curse in school, but he was a little fuzzy on how it worked or how it could cause _this_." Shacklebolt leaned back into his seat, crossing his arms.

"I want to help you, Ms. Weiss. But we also need to know that you're not a risk to yourself or others." He murmured.

_Nasty business, family curses are. Usually the hardest to break…_

_A curse on ye and yer kind…_

_The Slytherins used to call her 'Squib-blood' like it was a slur._

_Nine lives ye will lead, and nine lives ye will die…._

"_I don't know."_ She whispered, scrunching her eyebrows together. She looked between the two worriedly. "_I...I. I'm not even sure I know what magic is, it just feels like energy swelling up inside me and buzzing and wanting out. But it never hurt anyone at St. Anthony's, even when the dung smearing man came around. And it didn't help me when the snake men came." _

Dorie appeared a bit relieved, flipping through some papers as she sighed.

"That's what your medical records at St. Anthony's seems to indicate, as well. Outside of schi...schi...schizoid? Some sort of muggle phrase. Whatever it means, outside of these schizoid episodes, you were non-violent. In fact, your records seem more concerned with you endangering yourself than any danger you posed to the public."

"It doesn't say exactly when you were admitted. Or why." Shacklebolt followed, his eyes narrowing. "The muggles' record keeping left much to be desired in the 70s. It did mark you as a _permanent_ resident, which Nurse Strout has recommended as well, however-" He stopped, looking her over. "-Nurse Strout herself said the situation with Hopkirk could have been prevented with a bit more of a, uh, tactful approach. She led me to believe that you acted out in self-defense. And following the incident with the pensieve…...you were officially released from being a ward of the ministry. "

"_What….what does that mean?"_

"It means that Strout's request to make you a permanent ward was denied. When you escaped, you were already considered a voluntary admission, and would have been expected to pay for any further services. So in the eyes of the law, you just managed to arrange your release a bit…. early." The auror mused, a tired smile flitting across his face. He leaned back into his chair, sighing. "Unless we hear otherwise from our superiors, I feel comfortable with letting you go, although the ministry may later deem otherwise."

It was a very long winded, formal speech that didn't make a lot of sense. The longer Shacklebolt spoke, the more she was convinced that his words weren't for her, but for the house elf recording everything they were saying. It was confusing all the same. She wrapped her arms around herself, eyeing the door that Remus had disappeared through.

"_Does that mean I can go home?"_

"Yes. We have some of your old things that you may want to look through while we interview Lupin, but as soon as we're done with him, you can go home."

Jane nodded happily, her magic finally content with herself. But she stilled, a question lingering at the tip of her tongue. It was stupid to ask, she knew, but she did anyways.

"…_.where is that?"_

Silence reigned.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'm honestly not happy with this chapter, but if there's anything I've learned throughout this process, it's to keep charging through with what you don't like, or you'll never get to the stuff you do like. If anyone has any recommendations on how to improve or thoughts about this chapter, please leave them in the comments!


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven: Smiling Faces Sometimes**

**August 12, 1995**

Somehow, Jane thought she would have preferred staying in the interview room.

The waiting room was just a side corner of the open office space, guaranteeing a large assortment of people coming through, each one staring as they walked by. It wasn't the same room Remus had been allowed to wait in, much to her chagrin. She wouldn't get to talk to him until after he was finished with his own interview.

"Tea?" A female auror offered pleasantly, motioning to the mugs on the counter. Jane shook her head. She was becoming painfully aware that the auror was unofficially her babysitter. Jane ignored the woman, plopping down in a bar stool next to the counter instead. She soon regretted her decision. She felt antzy as she sat, her fingers still needing something to do.

The auror seemed nonplussed, instead offering her hand. "Penelope Proudfoot, pleased to meet ya."

Jane stared at the hand for a moment before shaking it. If the other woman thought the handshake was weak, she didn't say as such. In fact, she seemed overly excited to be meeting Jane.

"You've been all over the papers. It's weird being on this side of things now, never expected to be meetin' all of the famous witches and wizards you hear about, but 'ere I am. Albus Dumbledore even visited us earlier, can you believe it?"

Dumblydore was famous? That was news to her. Maybe other people saw him when he wasn't really there, too. That would explain why everyone seemed to hold such reverence for the man.

The woman kept chattering away, but Jane remained uninterested, letting her eyes wash over the open office space. Somehow, Jane thought that aurors would be out on patrol more than they would be at their building, but the seemingly never ending barrage of paperwork in their hands made it clear why. Even this department seemed fond of its unending rules.

Proudfoot didn't stop talking for quite some time, seemingly unaware of Jane's didn't care what she was saying in the slightest.

In fact, Jane wasn't sure exactly how long the woman had been talking when a hand on her shoulder snapped her out of it. She turned, a different employee looking at her worriedly. This witch was heavyset with broad shoulders, and balanced a crumpled box in her free hand.

"_Sorry?" _Jane asked, looking between the two women, confused. The broad shouldered witch offered the derelict box again, a pitying look in her eyes. They must have been saying something to her, Jane realized.

"I believe these were your things? Shacklebolt had us take pictures for record's sake, but these were actually scheduled to be vanished soon, anyhow. He signed all the right paperwork, so you can take them home with you if you'd like." Jane blinked, peering over the cardboard rim. "Would you? Like to keep any of it, I mean?"

The box was lined in soot and dust, to the point that merely peering over the cardboard's edge made Jane sneeze. But beneath the soot was a series of books, and among the papers, two large notebooks caught her eye. She carefully picked one of them up, the box nearly crumbling from the shift in weight.

The first notebook was almost artistic in design, a carefully drawn flower drawn on its crimson cover. An asphodel, Jane mused, surprised she recalled the lily's name. As she opened the journal, both Proudfoot and the other auror peered over her shoulder nosily, but Jane didn't mind. She was too wrapped up in the journal's contents.

It was all scribbles. Scribbles of something that would have made sense to her once, but now might as well have been written in a different language. Different portions were bookmarked with muggle post-it notes, and the book as a whole seemed to be very well organized, if a bit scatterbrained. The first page of the first section had two words as its title, underlined and circled. _Cat Sidhe._

"Does any of it mean anything to you?" Auror Proudfoot asked tentatively. Jane shook her head, looking up at the two aurors.

"_No. Do you understand it?"_

"I-to be right ruddy honest, no. They even brought in a couple of ancient rune experts back in the day, but none of them could make sense out of what you were on about. But there's some cool stuff in there, too, keep looking." Proudfoot encouraged, pointing. Jane rummaged through, and reaching for the other journal, felt her hand hit something metal. She pulled out the offending object. It was a ring.

For a moment, Jane's heart stopped. Had she been engaged? No, the ring looked a bit cheap for that. But despite a ridiculously thin, flimsy band, the glowing oval was a beautifully rich sapphire. Upon her touch, the ring's center swirled into a sable colour. She held the jewel carefully in the palm of her hand, cocking her head to the side.

"It's a mood ring! They were all the rage in the 70s. Even muggles had 'em, although theirs changed colours based on their temperatures, I think. This one's magical, works kind of like a remembrall. It changes colours based on what kind of mood you're in. Don't know what colours stand for what, it's been ages since I've seen one."

"_Is it….is it expensive?" _She asked tentatively, not sure what she wanted the answer to be.

"Goodness, no. Dirt cheap, they are. It's just a gimmick, stuff for teenagers and children." Jane felt relieved at that, deciding to slip the ring on her finger. She marveled at it for a moment more before continuing to rifle through the box. Her hands clasped around the binding of a second journal. It wasn't nearly as decorated, instead bound with a strange, thick leather.

"Dragon hide." Proudfoot said reverently. "A lot of ol' timey family albums are made with them, resistant to fire an all tha'. Worked in your case, too. Take a look."

Jane opened the book, her fingers turning black with soot as she did so. Behind the darkened dust, the leather appeared practically new, and the parchment better preserved than the other journal. And while the first journal had been nothing but notes, this one was nothing but pictures.

She spotted the picture of her group of friends celebrating in front of the sweet store, recognizing it from her interview. The girls were a recurring feature throughout the album, their names scribbled in ink below the photo.

_Marlene, Lily, and me. Honeydukes contest, 1976._

Lily….that was the woman Remus had told her about before. But where had she heard the name Marlene? Jane didn't let herself puzzle over it too long, her eyes moving from image to image.

_La Bayadère, 1977_

Ballerinas dressed in elaborate, west asian costumes twirled about on a stage. The picture was taken from afar, from someone in the crowd, and Jane couldn't make out the ballerinas' faces as they blurred in the motion. In the crowd, a woman with a pointed nose looked back angrily at the picture taker, appalled by the camera's flashing bulb.

_Dash meeting his Idol, 1974_

A young, hauntingly familiar boy enthusiastically greeted a muggle magician, grinning at the camera as he held a rabbit from a hat. Her brother, Jane recalled sadly, the one who looked like her old nurse. She swallowed, feeling a bit eager to move on to the other pictures.

_The Impossible, 1977_

A young teenager that looked very much like Harry kissed the ginger haired girl from before, who grinned in a daze. The photo was taken around a corner, the couple appearing oblivious that they had been caught.

_The Whole Gang, 1977_

The same group of girls that had been in front of Honeydukes now posed in front some sort of stone wall, accompanied by a group of boys. Jane spotted Remus among them, who looked a bit sheepish at having his photo taken. Beside him, a suave, dangerously handsome Sirius had his arms around the boy who looked like Harry's neck, joking around as the others laughed and rolled their eyes at their antics. But the younger version of Jane seemed separate from the others, looking forlorn, almost teary eyed, staring at the floor rather than the camera.

And that's when she saw _him._

Jane's world lurched, the candles returning, filling the air with soot and causing the pixies to scream. In the photo, a pudgy boy stood behind her younger self in a slouch, shuffling awkwardly as he offered an uneasy smile at the camera. His nose was overly wide and his teeth stuck out, with a receding chin that seemed to disappear into the folds of his neck. He appeared dorky, but not menacing. Not like someone who could ever be a_ threat_.

"_It's him."_ She breathed, her hand shaking. The book clattered to the floor with an alarmingly loud thud. The two aurors startled, both reaching to steady her. Jane shook her head rapidly.

"_Just put everything back in the box, please." _She whispered, sneezing violently as she found a corner to sit in. The floor felt cool, and somehow safer than the chair she had been sitting in.

"I…." Auror Proudfoot seemed lost for words, her eyes welling up with pity that Jane didn't want. But whatever the auror had been about to say fell on deaf ears, the women's forms blurring into oily mirages. Back at St. Anthony's, the shadows had come and gone as they pleased, but now it was almost as if she could control it, to tune things in and out at will. And she was bloody grateful for it.

Jane squeezed her eyes shut, putting her hand over her ears. This place was too much. It was too loud, there were too many people, and she'd prefer to stay in her own little world until she could go home, wherever that was. Remus was supposed to come get her soon, when he was done with his own interview. They would walk out of this overwhelming place together, and she wouldn't have to play anymore games or politics that she didn't understand, she could live happily ever after in the haunted house, and she wouldn't have to hur-

No. That wasn't right. She had said it herself. She had to work through the hurt, through the things that were hard to see and understand. If she never practiced at this, at becoming a _functioning_ person, then she would never get better. And practicing meant facing a past that was just out of her reach. But everything was spinning, and she didn't feel like hurting or reaching. She felt like one of the ballerinas in the album. Forced to keep spinning and spinning on stage, never stopping, just an endless cycle of a blurred faces, lost identities, and lost to the whatever fate she was bound to.

"How long has she been like this?" The spinning came to a stop, leaving her feeling rather dizzy. But that was the voice she had been waiting for. Through the shadows and peering eyes, the gangly man reappeared, his interviewers in tow.

"About an hour or so. I'm sorry Shacklebolt, she seemed so _normal_, I didn't think it would hurt for her to look through her own things-"

"She hasn't lashed out, has she?" Remus asked, kneeling down beside her. She looked him in the eye and answered for the auror, shaking her head rapidly. The auror answered, anyways.

"No, she's been fine. We had to stop her from banging her head a few times, but she's just been cooped up in that corner until you got here. It's when she saw that picture of Black-that's what did it."

Those _idiots._

_"Sirius. Never. Hurt me._" She hissed, glaring at the ditzy officer. Proudfoot looked taken aback, her startled form becoming clearer as Jane blinked the shadows away. Jane had wanted a corner, not a stage. Not for the ever leering eyes to gawk at her. She ran her hands through her hair, breathing hard as a sob threatened to rise in her throat.

A wizard whispered something into Shacklebolt's ear, and he stepped forward, his eyes sharpening.

"We don't have time for this. Potter's hearing just ended; he's been cleared of all charges. It won't be long before the ministry turns its attentions to us." He said pointedly, forcing Jane to her feet. Her world spun, but between Shacklebolt's arm and the wall, she maintained her balance. She spotted the derelict box in the corner and felt a tingle at her finger. The mood ring had swirled into an emerald green.

_"Can you bring the box, Remus?"_ she asked, biting her lip. She wasn't sure she ever wanted to look at the pudgy boy ever again, but there were more photos in the album that she hadn't been able to see. Remus nodded wearily, picking up the box as he did so.

"There's a flood of reporters outside. We should floo-"

"_No." _Jane breathed, shaking her head rapidly, feeling her world spin a bit more. _"The soot, the green light, the fire-" _

"Ms. Weiss, we keep anti-apparition wards set up here." Shacklebolt growled, eyeing the exit warily. "Which means if we don't floo, we'll have to go back outside to leave, and the reporters have already gotten wind that you're here. If you have a breakdown in front of them-"

"_I won't."_ Jane whispered vehemently. _"I promise. I'll be good. I'll keep the pixies away. Just don't make me go through the fireplace again, please." _She pleaded. While the grizzly auror seemed unmoved, he soon relented with a sigh.

"Fine. But we need to go_ right now._" Folding her arm into his, he escorted her forward and motioned for Remus and the aurors to follow.

As they strode ahead, she swallowed hard, beginning to regret her decision. Even within the department, the other officers stared. And beyond the revolving entryway doors, she could make out flashing bulbs and muttering voices. As they exited, the sunlight blinded her, forcing her to hold her hand above her eyes to see anything.

The crowd wasn't as numerous as she feared, only a few dozen or so, but they were intimidating all the same, all of them carrying notepads of sorts. At her and Shacklebolt's appearance, the wizards and witches clamored forward with questions, all of which Shacklebolt ignored as he pushed the two of them to whatever waypoint they were heading to. She could hear popping as more people arrived.

"Catherine! Catherine! Can I call you Cathy?"

"Have you spoken with Potter, Cathy?"

"Did Black hurt you? Did you go with him willingly?"

"Did you know what he was going to do-"

While the questions came and faded as they passed them, one reporter in particular followed the pair, her eyes glittering beneath jewelled spectacles. She reached out and grabbed Jane's shoulder, her crimson-painted nails digging into Jane's skin.

"Did you love him?" The woman asked insistently, an acid green pen writing on floating parchment as she spoke. A smile was stitched to the reporter's face, but her eyes were as false as her nails. "Did you know Black was a death eater?"

The pixies were screaming now, but not at Jane. They were screaming at the _reporters._

"_It wasn't Sirius."_ She insisted. _"Sirius would never hurt me."_ Shacklebolt's grasp was tighter than the woman's, and he pulled her further away from the smiling hyenas.

The reporter dramatically clasped her hands against her mouth, sickeningly pretending to be distraught for her. Jane bristled. Had people always lied to her this much? Had she been too much like Katie to notice?

"You poor dear. You do still love him, after all this time? You had an impossible choice between your best friend and your lover, didn't yo-"

"No questions." Remus growled, flanking Shacklebolt and Jane protectively.

But the words echoed in Jane's head. An impossible choice... between Sirius and her best friend? Lily? Remus had said that Lily had died-and all of this talk of Sirius being a death eater, did they think that _he_ was responsible for Lily's death? They thought _Sirius_ was the rat?

That woman had _no right _to say such things.

"You're wrong." Jane spat, turning around against Shacklebolt's grasp to face the spectacled woman. "He didn't hurt me; it wasn't _him._"

_It wasn't him._

_It wasn't him._

_It wasn't him._

"Then who hurt you?" The woman shouted through the din, her floating pen ready to take down every word.

"_It was never Remus or Sirius, they didn't do anything-"_

"Cathy, don't say anything-" Remus began, trying to force her forward.

"We're almost to the street, help me get her-" Shacklebolt began, but he was too late. The words had already left her mouth.

"_It was Peter. It was Peter Pettigrew!" _

Shacklebolt pushed her forward, the pair of them stumbling from the sidewalk and onto the street. She heard the pop before she felt the tug at her navel.

She was gone before the acid green pen ever had time to finish its sentence.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve: Three Dog Night**

**August 12, 1995**

"Shite." She heard Shacklebolt mutter, her ears still ringing.

Jane blinked, taking in her new surroundings. The reporters were gone, the street was gone, and the pair had landed at the doorsteps of the eerie mansion she had been staying at before.

The front door swung open, the Molly woman waiting behind it with a concerned smile. Jane was so relieved to see the motherly witch that she made to hug the woman, but a pop sounded behind her, startling her. Remus appeared from thin air, struggling to hold on to the crumpling box.

"Shite." He reiterated, panting as he rose.

"Didn't go well?" The Molly woman winced, glancing around as they all hurried inside.

"It almost did." Shacklebolt sighed, glaring at Jane as the door swung behind them. "You could have dropped that bombshell in the interview room, instead of in front of ruddy _Rita Skeeter_."

Jane shrugged, suddenly finding the scratched hardwood rather interesting.

"_I didn't mean to. I didn't-but when I saw his picture-and they were saying all those bad things about Sirius-" _

"What bombshell?" The Molly woman interrupted worriedly, glancing between the stressed trio.

"Peter's involvement." Remus grunted, his eyes glazed over. He ran his hand through his hair, looking through the manor's halls. "The press is going to have a field day with this."

"Without proof, it doesn't change anything." Shacklebolt muttered, looking like he didn't even believe it himself. "She's an unreliable witness, even more so than Harry. But there will be a bit of a ruckus about it for a few months, I imagine." Shacklebolt straightened, peering over the others.

"Is the floo still in the drawing room?"

"Actually," Remus winced apologetically, scratching the back of his head, "Sirius disabled it a few days ago. Long story. I'm afraid you'll have to face the masses again."

"Hopefully my boss won't be among them." Shacklebolt grimaced. "Ms. Weiss…..if you conveniently remember anything _else_, please inform Remus or myself first next time, hmm?."

Jane nodded apologetically. Shacklebolt left the same way they came in, a pop sounding as the door's hinges clicked into place.

"Well, that being said, dear, dinner is almost done, would you like to join us in the dining room? The boys are all celebrating. Did you hear?"

"So it's true, Harry's been cleared of all charges?"

"Every single one." The Molly woman beamed. Her smile froze, the witch losing some color in her face.

"Oh dear. The puddings!" She strode back towards the distant voices in a hurry, presumably after one forgotten dish or another. Remus absentmindedly held onto the box, walking eagerly towards the smell of beef drippings. The smell was rather repugnant to Jane, but she figured she should follow, seeing as she had caused enough trouble for one day.

Jane kept forgetting just how _large_ the haunted manor was, with its endless hallways and living spaces. Jane couldn't recall anything beyond St. Anthony's and Mumbo jumbo's simple rooms and rec area, it was hard to imagine what the endless space, coupled with the still lingering dust and cobwebs, was even needed for. Yet, there was something comforting about it. The mansion was unforgiving in how dark and broody it was, and seemed to be confusing even to those with better memories than she.

The others didn't seem to notice, marching towards one goal or another, talking amongst themselves about things that didn't make any sense to Jane. But they were so _alive _while this place was so _dead_, and she supposed the hospitals had been quite the opposite. Bright lights and nurses speaking in overly loud voices, all while the patients were stuck in their own nonexistent little worlds.

If places could have souls, this haunted mansion did, and its soul was just as broken as hers. The difference was that the mansion was utterly unapologetic about it.

"Coming, Cathy?" Remus smiled wearily at her, standing at the entrance of the dining room. She could hear familiar voices within, some she recognized, and others she didn't. The raucous cheering of children, the sounds of someone clapping someone else on the back. Normally, she would have been overwhelmed, but instead she was intrigued. If this mansion could be forced to be cleaned up and live a little, so could she. She nodded, walking through and sitting in the first empty chair she could find.

"Oh! Hello Ms. Cathy." The sullen boy was the center of everyone's attention, and seemed a bit chipper than he had before. Relieved, would be the better word. She smiled back, swallowing hard.

"_Hello, 'just Harry'."_ She teased, rather proud of herself for that. Harry beamed in response, his companions seeming pleased, as well. The Herminny girl sat upright, drinking her water politely while the Ronald-boy slouched. The other children were much like they were before, occasionally throwing curious glances her way, but for the most part lost in the commerce amongst themselves.

"Cathy!" An excited voice broke out. Around the corner, a balding ginger man beamed at her, bearing a close resemblance to the rest of the brood. She blinked, trying to place him. He didn't seem to notice her confusion, instead walking over to give her a hug. People here did really seem to like their hugs, she mused, before accepting it with a reluctant wince. "Glad to see you doing so well. Did your hearing go as well as Harry's?"

Hearing? Oh. He meant the interview. She looked towards Remus, unsure of the answer. He seemed uncertain as to what to say as well, casting a hesitant look towards Harry, then at someone in the corner.

Someone…..

"_Sirius!"_ She exclaimed with a grin, for once a name coming to her as soon as she saw him. Unlike the rest of the group, he didn't seem quite as happy over Harry's news, instead looking rather resigned. Her call snapped him out of his daze, however, and he grinned a haggard grin.

"Hello there, love." Sirius looked back towards Remus, not understanding whatever silent message Remus was trying to give him. Remus cleared his throat uncertainty, trying to make light of what he was about to say.

"The interview went well, but the paparazzi afterwards ... not so much."

"I feel your pain." Harry grimaced, looking between the three of them inquisitively. "They were all at my hearing, too. Nothing like the 'boy wonder' getting in trouble to spur them on, I suppose."

Sirius's eyes sharpened however, bristling as he stood. "What did they do?" He asked Remus, his voice dangerously even.

"_They tried to say mean things about you."_ Jane defended herself, reminded of Shacklebolt's scolding. She crossed her arms, put off. Sirius's expression softened, and he picked a chair, finally taking a seat for himself.

"You don't have to defend me, Cat, they wouldn't underst-"

"She accused Peter." Remus said suddenly, a pot dropping in the kitchen as soon as he said it. Molly was still within hearing distance, it would seem. Remus took a breath, continuing. "In front of Rita Skeeter, too."

The other children quieted, and Jane swore she heard a pin drop.

Clapping broke the silence.

At the end of the table, a man Jane hadn't even realized was there was clapping slowly, his eyes as dark as they were amused. Or his _eye,_ Jane realized. The man only had the one, his second replaced by some sort of false one. The false eye was large and bulbous, more accusing than it was mirthful. That didn't stop the man from his laughter, however.

"Maybe that'll placate the bread and circuses for a while." The man growled. "And from the shyest member of the whole bloody Order, at that."

Harry looked up at Remus, hopefully.

"Does that mean…. is there a chance that Sirius….?"

"It's not that easy, Harry." Remus murmured, Sirius's stunned gaze beginning to deflate. "Nobody would believe you or me, and Cathy is….well...umm….."

"_Mad." _Jane murmured helpfully, to which Remus stuttered, but nodded as he was unable to come up with a better descriptor. "Yes, well. Something of the sort."

"But with so many people coming forward, surely the ministry could-" Harry was interrupted by Sirius's hand on the boy's shoulder, the older man offered a comforting, yet empty, smile.

"It'll take more than a few people coming forward before the ministry'll dig their claws out of me, I'm afraid." Sirius sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Always been one to live on the wild side of life, for better or worse. But that's what you always liked about me, eh Weiss?" Sirius winked, Jane cheeks beginning to burn. The easy grin on his face faded, replaced by…. vulnerability?

"So...er...what exactly did you tell-" The disheveled man began, soon interrupted.

"Dinner!" Molly interrupted his train of thought, a large tray in her hands. The children broke into their own conversations, looking towards the large tray in her hands rather excitedly. It held a series of sandwiches and yorkshire puddings, their unpleasant aromas wafting through the dining hall as the tray appeared.

The Ronald boy seemed particularly excited, and even Sirius seemed near drooling. Jane shook her head as the brood dove into their food, looking at it suspiciously herself. New drinks magically appeared in front of them with a poof, a glass of brown sludge appearing in her spot. _Chocolate milk. _It was kind of the Molly woman to remember, even if Jane wasn't particularly keen about them, herself.

The one-eyed man seemed to be the only person to acknowledge her reluctance, looking over her inquisitively. He seemed unashamed of where his false eye wandered, and she wondered just how much it actually let him see. It certainly wasn't just a googly eye, she mused.

"You've changed." He grunted, taking a bite of his own pudding. She blinked, unsure of how to respond. The others had quieted, their mouths quelled by chewing. They instead uncomfortably turned their attention to her. She cocked her head to the side, trying not to care.

"_Do I know you?" _She asked, still eyeing the chocolate milk with distaste. The man nodded, a knowing glint in his good eye.

"Aye. Alastor Moody, we were in the Order together, years ago."

"_Did you have a false eye back then, too?" _She asked bluntly, blinking. Ron guffawed at the question, and the twins both restrained their laughs. But Alastor just smirked, not seeming offended in the slightest.

"Told yer she changed." He said, wagging his finger. He looked rather content with himself as he took another bite. No matter what he was doing, no matter what he was focused on, his false eye kept swiveling as if scoping out the scene, with a particular fascination with entrances and exits. He had the instincts of a soldier, she realized suddenly. Even here, relaxed at a dinner table, the wizard was ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.

Maybe _he_ could get rid of Kreacher for her.

"The Weiss_ I _knew let Lily and Marlene do all the talking fer her. Didn't say a peep, otherwise. But ya did yer job, and did it well. Quick, quiet, and _fast. _You had the injured out of the way 'fore the death eaters even knew you were there. At least until you started burying your head in books all the time. Then people started dying." He accused, his eyes sharpening.

This wasn't the first time she had heard that, but it was the first time she realized exactly what giving up her healing position in the middle of a war would entail. And this wizard, as amused as he was by her actions, hadn't seemed to have forgiven her for it.

"It _was_ research for the war." Remus defended, looking like he was suddenly deep in thought. "Or at least, I always thought it was. You were rather obsessed with it, if I recall. But I wasn't around much, towards the end."

Of course. The silly notebook with all of the silly symbols. Across from her, Herminny was far more intrigued, leaning forward as the others spoke.

"What sort of research?" She asked, her eyes glittering with interest. Beside her, the Ronald-boy clasped his hands to his forehead dramatically, and Harry seemed entertained, a small smile forming as he watched his friends.

"Runes. Bloody runes." Moody answered for her, shaking his head. "If we weren't in the middle of a ruddy war, your disappearance would have been big news. Witch goes missing, apartment bloodied, runes engraved on stones littered everywhere. Very mysterious. And that notebook of yours was just as barmy."

This didn't seem to deter Herminny, whose eyes lit up at the mere mention of runes. The young witch turned to Jane excitedly.

"I've been taking ancient runes. You wouldn't happen to have any photos of what he's talking about, would you?"

"Wouldn't matter if we did." Alastor answered for her again, taking another bite. "Had all sorts of experts look at all of it. Said the symbols were real, but the contents were gibberish. They thought she had gone mad even _back then_." He chuckled.

"If anyone could crack it, it would be 'Mione." Harry said approvingly, seeming almost proud. Herminny….or Mione? Whatever the girl's name was, she seemed to puff up more, eager to take on the challenge. Jane didn't want to let her down.

"_Actually, I think I saw a notebook in the box of things the aurors gave me." _She whispered, getting up out of her chair and heading over to where Remus had put the box. Ignoring her unfinished meal, Herminny followed in suit, eyes widening as she took in the dirtied cardboard.

"Oh! Would you mind if I took a look?"

"_Help yourself. I don't…..I don't really know what any of it is, anyways. I was hoping Remus or Sirius might remember." _Jane murmured, fingering the mood ring. The ring always seemed to respond after being noticed, swirling into an amber shade at her touch.

Herminny dug into the box's contents with a much stronger zeal than Jane had at the station. The box contained a great deal more than Jane realized, the number of items seeming far too great for the crumpled box's space, like something out of Mary Poppins. Maybe that was some sort of charm too, Jane mused.

The first thing Herminny opened was the photo album, her eyes widening as she took in the cover.

"Dragonhide leather! This must have been incredibly expensive. And….oh. Oh Harry, you'll want to look at this. Your Mum and Dad are in here."

What was once a forgotten box now became the focus of the room, much to Jane's astonishment. Harry came up out of his seat, with Ron close at his heels. A sudden vulnerability came over the sullen boy's face, and for once he seemed his age. In the distance, Sirius and Remus looked intrigued, but stayed back, watching.

Harry plopped beside them, his eyes widening as he took in the picture of the "impossible" couple kissing. He let his fingers run across the photo, a longing look in his eyes.

"They're not much older than us, in this." He said quietly, taking in the other photos. He flipped a few pages through, reaching photos Jane hadn't gotten to. To her relief, he had skipped past the group photo. She didn't want to look at _him_ again.

Jane felt a bit guilty. Most of the photos were of her brother, Lily, this "Marlene" girl, and two older people she supposed were her parents, along with the occasional ballet performance. There weren't as many of the boys, and several towards the end of the album actually had their photos removed.

"_I'm sorry there aren't more of your Dad." _She grimaced, blinking at the empty spots. Harry didn't seem too disappointed, instead offering a sad smile.

"No, this is…..this is great...it's just, I've had Sirius and Remus around to tell me what Dad was like in school. But I've never known any of Mum's friends, before. Do you know who this lady is? She always appears with the two of you. 'Marlene'?"

Jane shook her head apologetically, but in the background, the ever so helpful Moody piped up.

"Ah. Marlene McKinnon. Now _there _was a bold lass. Entire family was murdered in the war. She was part of the Order, too." He seemed a bit solemn for once, his false eye swiveling over to the album. Jane wondered if his magical eye could zoom in, as well, as he didn't make any effort to rise from his chair.

"Maybe she survived, too." Harry added hopefully, looking up to meet Moody's eyes. He wanted someone who actually _remembered _his mother, Jane realized, a bit hurt by the revelation. Yet she didn't blame him. She wanted to remember this Lily, too.

"We found_ their _bodies." Moody retorted gruffly, casting a ruffled look at Jane before finishing off the last of his pudding.

At that, the Molly woman huffed at the scene, placing her hands on her hips as she sighed in exasperation.

"If you want to look at Cathy's things, you can do it without ruining everyone else's dinner with all of this talk of death and darker times. Now go on, move to the drawing room. You'll have more room there, besides." The Molly woman's words came too late, Harry's expression indicating that he had already fallen into a dour mood.

Regardless, the children gathered the things, Ron huffing as he tried to drag the box into the other room. As they moved, Jane caught a glimpse of one last photo, and grabbed the book from a startled Herminny.

It was the wererabbit.

Only, the wererabbit didn't look like a wererabbit, instead looking more like the werecat version of himself that he had transformed into on the staircase. He offered the camera a similarly sharp grin, looking rather pleased with himself as a younger version of herself petted him. Below, she had written one word. _Harvey._

"What's wrong, Cathy?" Sirius asked. She hadn't realized that he had made to follow them, finished with his dinner, as well. She blinked at the photo, wondering if it would vanish before her eyes, but it stayed the same.

"Is that….was that my cat?" She asked mildly, trying to hide how shaken she was at the sight. She wasn't sure which possibility was worse. That she was hallucinating a dead pet, or that the photo itself wasn't even real.

"Oh, bugger. Yeah, kneazle, actually. He was a real prat. You loved him to death, though. He hated me in the beginning. He ran away or something after school; you were torn up about it for ages." She swallowed hard, feeling like she had lost her marbles all over again.

By the time she made it into the drawing room, the children had moved on from the photo album and into the other things. It didn't take Herminny very long to find the asphodel notebook, and the boy seemed occupied with digging some other books and knick knacks out.

Herminny seemed reasonably impressed, her eyes bugging out as she glanced over the notebook.

"This _is _advanced." She pulled a bookmark out of the notebook's pages, seeming even more dumbstruck. She squeaked, stopping the boys as they flipped through another book. Herminny turned to Jane, a brilliant smile beaming across her face.

"Did you know-is this-did you know that you have access to _the _Vortigern Library?" The fluffy haired girl asked excitedly.

Jane blinked, shrugging. Herminny held the bookmark closer to where Jane could see. From a distance, it looked like a normal bookmark, but upon a closer glance it glimmered, the library's name engraved around the edges. The Ronald boy rolled his eyes at his friend.

"Leave it to Mione to get worked up over a ruddy library….."

"It isn't just _any_ library." The witch muttered indignantly, glaring at the redhead. "It's _the_ oldest wizarding library in the country. You can't even get in without a pass, and none of the books are allowed to leave the tower. Ever."

"What's the use of a library where you can't check out books?" Harry asked, confused. Jane found herself wondering the same question, and was rather glad that she wasn't the recipient of Herminny's glare.

"Honestly, don't you two pay attention in Binn's class? Vortigern specializes in _ancient_ works. Some of which were handwritten by Merlin, himself! That's why it's referenced in all our textbooks. Nobody even knows how old the library is. Do you see these golden notches on the bookmark?" She asked, pointing out a series of indentions that would have otherwise appeared decorative. "With this, all you have to do is pull out the bookmark, and whatever book you're looking at will automatically flip to where you last left off. It's ingenious, really. And it proves you're a library member. It's incredibly difficult to be approved. You have to have certain credentials, and there's a waiting list for ages..." She murmured, looking at the bookmark longingly.

"_Can…."_ Jane began, eyeing the bookmark warily. _"...can members bring friends along?" _She asked, looking up at Remus inquiringly. Remus shrugged, smiling as he watched the two.

"Don't look at me, _I'm_ not an esteemed member." He chuckled, but Herminny was nodding as fast as she could muster.

"I think you have to get it approved, like get a guest pass or something…. oh, would you mind taking us there sometime, Ms. Weiss? We might even find out more about your research, you _had_ to have studied there."

Jane offered the girl a smile, glad to be of help. _"Of course. At least, if the others are ok with it." _

"I don't think we can manage the trip before you start back at Hogwarts, but we could certainly go during the break." Remus offered. Sirius hawed over Remus's answer, rolling his eyes.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but let the kids live a little and go to the bloody library."

Remus's eyes sharpened at the rebuke, swallowing hard as a weary look came over him.

"The media is going wild over Harry and Cathy right now, and the library's in Hogsmede. If we give it a month or two, the frenzy should die down, a bit. But until then...it might not be safe."

Sirius looked a bit put out by this answer, but accepted it begrudgingly, grumbling a series of unpleasant words towards someone named 'Skeeter' as he did so.

Herminny had already moved on, flipping through the notebook in interest. She chewed at her fingernails, deep in thought, before turning to the two men.

"Would one of you mind using a doubling charm on this? I'd like to look over it in my free time, if I could. I think…. I think she may have been writing in some sort of cypher."

Remus complied, a carbon copy of the book popping into Herminny's hands as he did so, but Sirius looked on with a blank stare.

"A ...cypher?"

"It's a muggle form of encryption." Herminny explained offhandedly, putting the original back into the box while examining her own copy. "Wizards have always had enchantments and charmed seals to hide messages, but muggles would often write in a code that only their recipient would know how to read. It's so utterly _fascinating_ to see such a muggle concept applied to runes, of all things. See how some runes are more frequent than others? Do you see this one? It's the symbol for B. But it's used by itself several times in this passage, which makes me think that it might actually stand for "A"."

"Like that James Bond movie!" Sirius exclaimed suddenly, his eyes lighting up. "That one we saw just before Harry's first birthday."

Remus cocked his head to the side, his mouth twitching in amusement. "Why doesn't it surprise me that you're a fan?"

"_For Your Eyes Only_. That was the one. And what? The Bond girls were bloody ho-" He paused, awkwardly eyeing Jane before he finished. "-ot. But, er, the KGB thing was interesting. Very much a political drama, that one."

Jane had the feeling that Sirius had been far more interested in the pretty girls and large explosions than any sort of political commentary, but couldn't really remark on the matter. She didn't recall the film in the slightest.

"Ms. Weiss, you might want to take a look at this, too." Herminny remarked, having ignored the change in conversation. She pointed out a passage in the notebook, a name and address that had been circled many times. "This isn't written in code. Do you know the name?"

_Charles Quigley_

_Kaiserswerther Str. 16-18_

_14195 Berlin, Germany_

Jane shook her head, baffled. Germany?

Sirius cocked his head to the side, his eyes scrunched in confusion. "We knew a _Sissy _Quigley. Remember her, Moony? She was that divination bird. Maybe she's had a gender change since then." He joked, elbowing the other man. Remus shook his head, confused.

"Our divination professor? Vaguely. She had an accident with fire omens or something of the sort, had to quit the next year. She might be related to this Charles, but I don't know what she would be doing in_ Germany_. And none of us were particularly fond of her."

"Um…. Ms. Cathy?" Harry said quietly, having been quiet for much of the conversation. Jane turned, and frowned, noticing how shaken the boy appeared to be. The book he was holding was the complete opposite of the research studies Herminny had been examining, instead appearing to be a baby book. "Did you…. did you get this for me, back then?"

_Hickory Dickory Dock, and other Muggle Nursery Rhymes_

Jane felt her heart freeze.

Caught up in the conversation, she had almost forgotten the candles, the pixies, and the rest of the confusing mess her life had become. But the sight of the simple book brought it all crashing down on her. And she couldn't fathom _why._

"_I...uh….I suppose."_ She answered lamely, trying to ignore the pixies as they began to shriek. She could hear a baby crying, feel the blood beneath her, feel fire licking her skin as rats chewed at her ears. But she didn't want to. She didn't want to feel any of it, and she had been doing so _well_. She didn't want her brain to hiccup, not here, not now, not in front of the teenagers. Not when Harry was upset and needed her.

Perhaps upset was an exaggeration. He seemed touched by the intended gift more than anything, staring like he had never seen a baby book in his life. Jane imagined he didn't have many things from when his parents were alive, and could see why he was so enraptured with the book. The illustrations were animated, the characters jumping across the pages and interacting with one another in a way muggle books couldn't. It was a good quality illustration, and she could easily imagine a toddler cooing over it.

But it also reminded her of something that she had forgotten, although she couldn't recall exactly what that was. She found herself whispering her old mantra, the rhyme worming its way back into her brain.

_Hickory dickory dock, the rat ran up the clock…._

She rocked, covering her ears, and tried to ignore the teenagers' stares. They would stare more if she made a scene, she knew. If she let the shadows press down on her and the candles burn and the rats gnaw and the rhyme overtake her-

"Are you ok, Ms. Weiss?" Harry had gone from teary-eyed to alert, and Jane could feel Sirius's hand on her shoulder. She shoved him off, nodding even as she rocked.

"_I think….I think I'm going to go lie down now." _She said hurriedly, looking around desperately. The problem was, she wasn't sure where her room had been. It was near a staircase, she knew. But which floor? How did she get there from the drawing room? Why did this house have to be such a maze-the nursery book was loose, now, the pages falling wherever they pleased without Harry holding onto them. She choked back a sob as she rose, spotting Humpty Dumpty in the corner of her eye.

_Humpty Dumpty sat on a Wall..._

Sirius chased her as she fled.

"Sirius, leave her-" Remus warned behind her, but the footsteps following her indicated he had done otherwise. The stairs. She had to find the stairs. She had to find her bed, her covers, her room, Katie's baby, she had to go back to where she could scream for hours on end without anyone knowing or staring-

Someone else was screaming, too. An ugly, older woman with a big black hat had awoken on the wall, the portrait yelling obscenities as she passed it. Had she ever noticed it before? Was it just another hallucination, another ghost from her past refusing to let go? The manor was just as unforgiving as always, a dreary maze that seemed amused by her weak attempts to navigate it.

She found the staircase the same time Sirius found her. He grabbed her, pulling her into an embrace, but she pushed him away, tripping as she made her way up the stairs.

_Humpty Dumpty had a great fall…_

Sirius caught her, this time holding her more tightly against his chest. She railed against him, the smell of soot and stale blood stung her nose. Something bad was about to happen. She knew it. And she didn't know what, but she didn't want to hurt him, and she didn't want the others to stare-

_And all the King's Horses and all the King's men…._

"I'm not letting go, Cat. I'm not going anywhere, I swear-I'm right here-"

He was lying, she knew. He hadn't been there. He wasn't _there_. He didn't come. She was screaming and the lights were flickering but the man pretending to be Sirius wouldn't let go. She tried counting backwards. She tried counting frontwards. She tried everything she could think of, but pressure in her head was building, her forehead ready to split open as she screamed.

_Couldn't put her back together again._

The clock struck eight. The candles went out, the manor plunging into darkness as smoke lingered in the air.

The shadows took her.


End file.
